


Quagmire

by SBG



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-10
Updated: 2003-10-10
Packaged: 2018-10-06 13:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10335782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: Summary: Trouble comes to SG1 from an unusual source.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

This wasn’t funny. Sam could hear the smile in the colonel’s voice every time he opened his mouth, and he’d suddenly become incredibly talkative. She refused to acknowledge his presence as he turned around yet * _again*_ to take in the apparently comical appearance of her and Daniel. 

Not. Funny. 

Beside her, Daniel was growling lowly, every bit as irritated with her CO as she. Looking at the archaeologist, though, provoked an unwilling smile. Daniel had landed in whatever this crap all over them was face first, and with a very resounding splat; he was dripping head to toe with the blackish-brown slop. His face was still mostly obscured, the outline of his glasses cutting a white slash across his muddied features. Blue eyes flashed their disgust, skewering the colonel’s back. 

Oh, God, his face! Moments before it happened, his eyes had widened amazingly large, his arms had floundered about and then it was all she wrote. Sam felt laughter trying to rise up at the memory and let go her own sulkiness toward the colonel…for a bit anyway. 

She and Daniel had wanted a closer look at a structure about half a mile in the distance, but a large slough of muck completely surrounded it. The UAV had had no way of preparing them for the substance and the colonel had flat out refused to wade through the moat. So she and Daniel had scrambled on top of a thick stone fence that encased the mire in the hopes binoculars would be strong enough to reveal at least a few details about the mysterious building. 

// "Wow, it’s even bigger than I thought!" Daniel exclaimed, unconsciously bouncing his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet. The words were coming out of his mouth so quickly they almost ran into each other. "There could be thousands of people living in there. I wish we could have gotten conclusive evidence on life forms. Obviously there were some at one point." 

"Let me see," Sam wrenched the binoculars from Daniel’s hands. Her own excitement mounted, as if Daniel’s mood was contagious. "He’s right, sir. It’s enormous. Daniel, I think I can see movement through one of the upper windows." 

"What? Where?" Daniel gasped and yanked the field glasses back. Even half masked behind the instrument, Sam could see his face take on a rapt, wistful expression. She knew instantly he’d try to appeal to the colonel before he opened his mouth to do just that. "Jack?" 

Sam turned around to find the colonel and Teal’c looking up at them. Her CO bore the classically wry face he reserved specifically for when he had to deliver less than favorable news but wasn’t brokenhearted about doing so. Teal’c’s expression was bordering on disinterestedness marked with very well concealed amusement. Teal’c definitely knew what she concluded moments after catching the colonel’s expression: Daniel didn’t stand a chance. There were limitations to the colonel’s patience, and some things he just wasn’t willing to do. Crossing through what looked to be hip deep mud was undeniably one of those things. 

Daniel swiveled to gain the colonel’s response, face hopeful. The colonel lifted his right hand off his P90 and emphatically waggled the pointer finger in the air. The archaeologist’s face fell dramatically, causing the older man to cringe slightly. It only lasted a moment, then the corners of his lips twitched upward. 

"Ah! Don’t get your hopes up, Daniel," he began, pausing just long enough for Daniel’s face to twist in objection. "Not this trip. We’re talking waders here." 

"But Jack-" 

"Daniel, make your video. I’m sure General Hammond will authorize a return mission to good old P7…what’s it again?" 

"P7J 952, O’Neill. I concur, Daniel Jackson. It would be unwise for us to traverse to the fortress at this time," Teal’c stated. 

"Daniel," Sam interrupted the debate before it became heated. For once, she actually agreed with the colonel. "He’s right. If we get in this stuff, we’ll have to undergo quarantine procedures including really unpleasant decontamination. I’ll grab a sample to test out and then we’ll come back, okay?" 

Daniel moped at her for a moment before expelling a massive sigh and giving a tiny nod. "Okay." 

"Good, we’re agreed then. C’mon, Daniel, get down from there. Carter, work on procuring that sample. If we leave now we can make it back to the ‘gate before dark…" The colonel trailed off, jaw dropping in awe before continuing, "Wait a minute! Is the door of that place opening?" He pointed beyond her and Daniel’s shoulders at the structure. 

Sam snapped the glove onto her right hand and turned to follow his finger, stopping as she caught the beginnings of a mischievous grin on the colonel’s face. Daniel twirled around quickly, anxious to see the inhabitants of this world for himself. Not being known for his grace and agility and overwhelmed by exuberance, Daniel overshot his pivot. Sam glared at the colonel while standing to help the archaeologist gain his balance. His arms were flailing frantically and his eyes were just about popping out of his head. He managed to turn slightly toward her, face reflecting the knowledge he was going down. Hard. 

And he did. Mud spattered everywhere as Daniel belly flopped into the mud pit. Sam immediately crouched down on the wall and extended her gloved hand to help the archaeologist up, trying to ignore the ill-disguised sniggers coming from the colonel. Damnit, the man should know better. Who knew what this stuff was? Daniel fished around in the gunk, trying to flip over onto his back, succeeding after a long minute. He grasped her hand gratefully and took off his glasses to give the colonel a reproachful look. She’d only gotten Daniel into a sitting position when she felt something warm and firm on her backside. 

Then she was flying right toward Daniel. 

She twisted in mid air, landing in the mud on her left side. Her hand still clutched Daniel’s and her momentum carried him back down with her. Fortunately for him, he didn’t plant his face in it again. As one, she and Daniel sat up and shot daggers at the colonel. He was fighting very, very hard not to laugh. 

"Jack!" Daniel indignantly scathed. "What did you do that for?" 

"Like you wouldn’t have taken an opportunity handed to you on a silver platter?" the colonel retorted between chuckles. "Oh, that was great! You should have seen your face, Daniel! And Carter!" 

"Sir, if you ever touch my butt again, I’ll be forced to take action," Sam snarled furiously, squeegeeing some slime off the side of her face. 

The colonel waved his hands in the air, the picture of innocence. He pointed to Teal’c and raised his eyebrows dramatically but didn’t say anything. 

"Teal’c?!" Sam shouted, unable to believe the Jaffa was responsible for her current messy state. 

"I do apologize, Major Carter. I…could not resist," Teal’c calmly explained, with what looked suspiciously like a smile playing on his lips. "It was, as O’Neill explained, an opportunity too good to pass up." 

Sam shook her head in half frustration, half amusement. Daniel grunted, apparently not as inclined to see the humor in the situation. She took a closer look at the archaeologist. There didn’t appear to be an inch of him unblemished by the…wait, there. A dry tuft of hair stuck up in the middle of head, reminding her of the Little Rascals. 

Alfalfa. 

Biting back a smile, Sam scowled at the colonel and Teal’c. Practical joke or not, they really had no idea what this stuff was, and Daniel had likely gotten a mouthful of it. 

"I suppose neither of you are willing to lend a hand?" she impatiently asked. 

"Well, Major, it wouldn’t do us any good if we * **all** * became contaminated," the colonel replied with a smug and wholeheartedly unrepentant smirk. Instead, he looked around for a place to sit while she and Daniel extricated themselves from their impromptu mud bath. 

"Contaminated is right, Jack. I don’t know what this is, but it stinks and certainly tastes awful!" Daniel ground out between clenched teeth. 

So Daniel * **had** * ingested some. Sam felt worry creep its way into the back of her mind. The muck could easily contain some very virulent bacteria. They really should get back to the SGC. She caught the colonel sitting up straighter at Daniel’s latest revelation, humor diminishing from his face though it didn’t completely vanish. 

"How much do you think you swallowed, Daniel?" Sam asked, rising to her feet and reaching down to once again help him up. They climbed over the low wall and jumped up and down several times, trying to shake as much mud off as they could. Sam absurdly felt like a puppy. 

"Oh, not much. Spat out as much as I could, of course. I could use something to rinse my mouth out with," he relayed, looking pointedly at the colonel. Petulant was not strong enough of a word to describe the expression on his face. "So help me, Jack. You’ll get yours, even if it’s the last thing I do." 

Her CO didn’t look frightened in the least. Rather, he started laughing all over again as he tossed Daniel his canteen from a safe distance. "Here you go, Alfalfa. Darlene. Get as much of that crap off you as you can, then let’s hit the trail, kids." // 

Sam quickly clasped her clean right hand over her mouth to contain the giggles suddenly springing from her throat. Daniel tensed next to her and turned his lethal blue laser beams onto her. 

"I’m…I’m sorry, Daniel. It’s just…your hair…your face!" Sam gave up the effort, allowing the laugh to bubble out. 

The colonel turned around, smirk now explicitly drawn across his features. Sam looked at him through watery eyes, knowing she shouldn’t encourage his behavior. She had to admit it, though, that this all was pretty funny in hindsight. No pun intended. Even Teal’c was showing a small smile and his left eyebrow was raised in his humored manner, not his perplexed one. She doubted he’d actually laugh, but for Teal’c, a smile said plenty. He was capable of laughing, though. She hadn’t understood his Seth Jaffa joke, but thinking back on it now, she realized seeing his face crack into a huge laugh had been wonderful. 

"Et tu, Sam?!" Daniel hissed, giving her an annoyed shove away from him. 

The action only made her laugh harder. She pointed to his hair and then to her own head. Unable to speak, she mimicked his errant strands before doubling over in hysterics, clutching her sides as if to keep them in. The colonel’s smile turned quickly into guffaws. Daniel glowered at all of them with icy eyes. With each blade Daniel speared, the more uncontrolled the laughter became. 

Soon the archaeologist’s iron face began to soften. His lips twitched ever so faintly, and Sam could see he was struggling to keep his rankle up. She figured the giggles were infectious – he’d eventually cave. Her sides were beginning to really cramp, but she couldn’t stop laughing. It’d been years since she’d let go this much. It had been years since any of them had. 

In the past five years, she didn’t know if she’d ever seen Daniel out and out laugh. Smiles from him were a rare and beautiful gift, actually. She wished he would do it more often. Sam felt her good mood flicker for a moment, realizing Daniel hadn’t had very many reasons to laugh in his life, at least since she’d known him. She wondered if he had before she knew him. The only hint she really had about his childhood came from the Gamekeeper’s virtual reality, and that had hardly been a good time. Her giggles subsided and she studied him closely. Her spirits started sliding to their previous level. 

A shy, flickering grin lit Daniel’s muddy face. He begrudgingly conceded, "All right, I’ll admit it. Good one, Jack. But I’m still going to get payback. No place is safe." 

Not quite a chuckle but she’d take it. Someday Daniel would grace them with a real laugh. The colonel tried to coax it out of him, overkilling the facetious remarks sometimes, but Sam figured he’d succeed eventually. Speaking of sarcasm… 

"Ooh, shaking here, Daniel," her CO retorted, finally getting his laughter under control. "Nothing personal, but I really don’t see how you could top that." 

Sam looked to O’Neill. She had to admit she was a little shocked at his joviality. Aside from his tongue in cheek display his lighter side a lot. He looked like a totally different person when his face was alight with laughter. Not as hard. Pleasantly surprised by all three of her teammates’ reactions, Sam started laughing full force again. 

"Don’t count on it," Daniel joked in a menacing tone. "Revenge will be mine." 

Sam found herself agreeing with the colonel. Twice in once day? She was definitely slipping. This stunt would probably go down in the record books when they got back to the SGC. She could picture General Hammond’s face when he saw their condition and heard how it had happened – he’d get all blustery and official, a sure give away he was trying to quell his amused reaction. She distinctly remembered her father getting that exact way whenever she and Mark got into messes like this. He’d struggle to keep the smile from his face while doling out punishment. 

Control started to seep back into her. Sam thought it about time to get started again - they were still only halfway back to the ‘gate. She started walking slowly forward, and the others followed suit without comment. Sam admitted she was glad for the mini break, though. Her muscles were strangely stiff, but she couldn’t tell if she should attribute it to the drying mud or something else. 

Colonel O’Neill turned around, looking regretful that he had to give up his moment in the sun. Their laughter subsided a bit as they concentrated on getting home. Silence eventually fell upon them and Sam found herself contemplating ideas for Daniel’s revenge. She felt she could at least help him out. After all, Teal’c needed a little dressing down himself for his part in the tomfoolery. 

She still couldn’t believe he had tipped her so readily into the mud. Very un-Teal’c like, though she noticed he’d seemed to partake in humor more and more often lately. If she thought about it that way, she could almost overlook revenge. Almost, but not quite. Really, it was only fair if the colonel and Teal’c could gang up on them, she and Daniel could work jointly to get retribution. 

Turning to the archaeologist, Sam opened her mouth to whisper her idea to get revenge. She froze when she noticed Daniel had stopped a couple of paces back, face grimacing and one of his hands rubbing his neck. Her heart skittered. 

"Daniel? You all right?" she asked, alarm bells ominously sounding in her brain. She stopped walking and went back to him, grasping his arm tightly. He was trembling minutely, muscles tensing and relaxing spastically. "Daniel?" 

He squinted at her with panic stricken eyes, breath coming in short huffs. "Sam? I…" 

"What is it? Sir? Something’s wrong with Daniel," Sam instinctively called for the colonel. She briefly entertained the idea Daniel was somehow faking illness to get back at the colonel, dismissing it almost immediately. Daniel would never do something so cruel as to make them think he was in pain of any kind. This was very real. 

"Can’t…breathe…" Daniel wheezed as he suddenly went down on his knees, hand leaving his throat to clutch at her. 

Sam felt her own breath catch in dread as she crouched next to the archaeologist, holding him up the best she could. 

"Daniel!" 

~~~~~~~~ 

Jack shook his head. Daniel should know better than to try and exact revenge so soon after threatening to do just that. Did the kid actually think he was going to fall for this little act? The archaeologist may have duped Carter, but he’d not be that easy of a target. He continued along the path, resolutely refusing to give credence to Daniel’s feeble attempt, waving a dismissive hand in the air. 

"O’Neill!" Teal’c called harshly after him. "Daniel Jackson requires assistance." 

It seemed Daniel was a better actor than Jack thought - he even had the Jaffa fooled. Shaking his head at the gullibility of his two normally levelheaded teammates, he swiveled around with a knowing grin on his face. Carter was carefully easing Daniel down onto his back while the archaeologist pretended to gasp for air. He acknowledged Daniel was very convincing in his role of helpless victim. Lord knew he’d had enough practice at it. 

Teal’c remained standing off to the side, with an uncharacteristically uncertain look upon his face. Jack shot the Jaffa a puzzled frown, wondering if his strange behavior was part of the act, if all three of them had somehow conspired against him without him even knowing it. Casually strolling over to the trio, he made like he was inspecting his fingers out of sheer boredom. As soon as he got close enough, he crouched next to the fallen archaeologist and rolled his eyes. 

"Come on, Daniel. Do you think I’m this big of a sucker? Now enough with the antics. Let’s go," he admonished lightly and stood back up. 

"O’Neill!" 

"Sir!" 

Carter and Teal’c shouted, their voices nearly drowning each other out. Jack paused. They sounded legitimately, seriously upset. He surveyed Teal’c again, realizing he’d mistaken the Jaffa’s expression as uncertainty when it was really fear. His stomach plummeted to his feet. His belief that this was some stunt orchestrated by the young archaeologist crashed right along with it. 

"Jack…" Daniel whispered, fright very obvious in his tone. Jack’s good humor disappeared completely. 

"Shit, Daniel! God, I…" Jack sputtered out, immediately falling to his knees and reaching for the younger man. Carter’s right hand stopped his before it could reach its destination. He glared at the obstruction, but she just squeezed his hand tightly for a moment and shook her head. 

"Contamination, sir. Level A," she reminded him, her eyes huge and bright with fear. "We don’t know what’s causing this. If it’s the mud, I’m already exposed." 

Oh, God. He was going to have to stay a passive observer to whatever nightmare he was now certain Daniel was truly undergoing. The archaeologist appeared to be getting barely any air with his shallow, raspy breaths and his arms and legs were jerking with his panicked attempts. A fine film of sweat lined Daniel’s forehead, turning the dried mud sticky wet, oozing a sick trail down his temples. 

"Right, right." 

Jack nodded and reached for his pack. He pulled out his gloves and mask, noting Teal’c had already donned his and was kneeling on the other side of Carter and Daniel. The Jaffa’s dark eyes did not sway from the pair, and he had laid his left hand on one the archaeologist’s arms. Jack hoped either the thick rubber would protect him or Junior would. 

Protect him from what? This was just crazy. One minute Daniel was fine…was almost laughing, for crying out loud…and the next he was down. Jack’s brain whirled at the suddenness of the attack and he cursed himself for foolishly disregarding the cries of all three of his team members. Daniel had better be all right. This was fixable. Had to be. 

"Anaphylactic shock?" he desperately asked Carter, hoping she’d figured out what was causing Daniel’s suffering. "Allergic reaction to something in the air?" 

"I don’t think so, sir." Carter’s answer was surprisingly calm, a direct counterpoint to his own agitation. "Daniel’s allergies are no more severe than the average person’s, according to Janet. He doesn’t have any that are potentially fatal." 

As if to contradict Carter’s assurance, Daniel heaved, back arching off the ground. She leaned into him, trying to wrap her arms around the flailing man. Jack noticed sweat had begun to appear on her forehead as well, and frowned. The planet wasn’t warm, and up until this point Daniel hadn’t been much of a physical problem. 

Teal’c apparently observed Carter’s difficulty and gently brushed her arms away. She protested, but the Jaffa ignored her, his focus on keeping Daniel as stable as possible. 

"Teal’c, you shouldn’t…" Carter trailed off, noting as Jack did, the Jaffa’s determination even through the mask. 

"My symbiote will protect me, at least for a greater length of time than yourself or O’Neill," Teal’c uttered logically as he grasped Daniel’s arms in a strong grip. Jack watched as his Jaffa friend disregarded his relatively unprotected torso, using it as a weight on top of Daniel’s chest. 

The archaeologist’s movements decreased to minor twitches as if he were receiving a mild electrical shock. His breaths were terribly far apart, lips taking on a bluish tinge. They had to do something! Why were they all just sitting around letting this happen? 

"Jack…" Daniel called weakly. Jack lunged closer to Daniel as the younger man’s back arched high into the air, one last violent attempt for air. 

It lasted only a few seconds. 

Jack numbly looked on as Daniel’s body lost all animation and sagged limply to the ground with unreal finality. His eyes remained open, boring into Jack’s own. He swore he could see the fear still lingering but he knew Daniel had just stopped breathing. His heart flopped revoltingly in his chest, the same feeling he’d had when it had finally sunk in that Charlie had died. He tossed Carter a worried look and turned back to the archaeologist. That wasn’t going to happen to Daniel. They could get him back. They * _would_ * get him back. 

"Daniel! Daniel, come on. Don’t do this," Jack pleaded with the motionless figure. He wanted nothing more than to shake the life back into his friend, but reason told him it would do no good. 

"Sir, move," Carter ordered, punctuating it with a shove Jack would normally consider insubordinate. 

His 2IC bent over, her head hovering close to Daniel’s mouth, wincing when she apparently felt no breath. Tilting the young man’s head back, she nodded to Teal’c, who had moved off of the archaeologist’s chest to take up CPR position. Jack jerked when he saw Teal’c’s gloveless hands on Daniel’s muddy chest. 

"Teal’c, are you sure you should do that?" Jack queried, jutting his chin at the bare hands. 

"The gloves will only impede my movements," Teal’c simply stated, effectively ending the protest. 

He fell helplessly back onto his butt as Carter administered the first two breaths and waited for Daniel to burst back. Nothing. She fumbled to find a pulse, her face paling even further as she indicated for Teal’c to begin compressions. The Jaffa began gently at first, as if afraid of harming the younger man. His motions became more aggressive when Daniel showed no signs of returning to life. 

Time blurred. Jack could hear nothing but the blood rushing in his head and Carter’s soft voice counting fifteen over and over again for Teal’c. He had no idea how many times the process was repeated. He could only focus on Daniel’s eyes, which seemed to stare at him even though Carter blocked the younger man’s face from his view. Confused eyes. Scared eyes. Accusatory eyes. 

Suddenly, he realized the frenzied activity had halted before him and he sought out either Carter or Teal’c’s gaze. Both had their faces turned down. Carter had unrestrained tears streaming down her face and a hand clapped over her mouth. She was shaking with shock, arm wrapped around herself just like Dan- 

Confusion consumed him as he looked from Carter to Teal’c, then finally down to Daniel. Why had they stopped? They’d just started. He opened his mouth to order them to continue CPR, but all that emitted from his throat was a pitiful sounding croak. 

"Daniel Jackson is dead," Teal’c needlessly informed him. 

The Jaffa’s face was rigid and emotionless. Jack knew better. He looked into Teal’c’s eyes and grief radiated from them, burning him with its intensity. Daniel. Dead. Jack abruptly stood, walked one step and then sank back down to the ground, rubbery legs refusing to cooperate. This was all his fault. Though he hadn’t touched Daniel, he’d practically shoved the archaeologist into the mud all the while thinking himself too, too clever. Daniel’s voice pounded into him like a judge’s gavel, over and over. 

// "So help me, Jack. You’ll get yours, even if it’s the last thing I do." 

"Even if it’s the last thing I do." 

"The last thing I do." // 

"Oh, God, Daniel. I’m so…" Jack choked, unable to continue. He had dismissed it as a joke. A * _joke_ *! His stomach twisted at the thought Daniel had been dying and he’d responded with mocking chides. Daniel. Dead. 

Gaping at Daniel, lying so silent on the ground, Jack searched for signs of movement, of life, but the younger man’s sightless eyes continued to cut into him. He shuddered and looked instead to Carter with an overwhelming feeling of dread. She was panting in short huffs, moving one of her arms to rest on Daniel. He couldn’t help but think she was in danger of following the young man into death. Death. 

Jack’s own breathing was becoming rapid and he suddenly felt suffocated by the mask. He ripped the offensive item from his head and flung it as far away as he could. Rubbing an unsteady hand across his mouth, Jack fought the nausea progressively growing inside. 

"Sir, I don’t understand," Carter garbled brokenly. "He was fine. This shouldn’t have happened." 

Jack snagged Carter’s hands into a strong grasp. He couldn’t feel her skin through the thick rubber gloves. It disturbed him tremendously. Fighting the need to peel the gloves off, he massaged her hands and stomped his own feelings of dismay down into a deep, dark corner. There wasn’t time for him to deal with them right now; he needed to get Carter up and moving, back to the SGC. 

"I know, I know," he whispered, keeping himself focused on her and not Daniel’s lifeless body. "We should get him home. You too. Teal’c, think can you carry him?" 

Teal’c didn’t answer, but jerked to his feet instead, startling Jack. The Jaffa tilted his head to the side as if listening for something. Jack’s senses went on full alert, but he couldn’t hear anything. He trusted Teal’c’s instincts unquestionably and looked to his friend for indication of what was alarming him. 

"O’Neill. Something approaches. We must leave this place immediately," Teal’c urged, bending down to gather Daniel in his arms. 

Teal’c seemed to deliberate for a moment before he gently placed his fingers across the archaeologist’s eyes, closing them. Jack recoiled at the irrevocability of the action but was at the same time grateful for the Jaffa’s compassionate strength. They exchanged a solemn glance, Teal’c nodding his head once at him. Jack sighed, feeling ragged, worn and sick. He kept Carter’s hands in his, guiding her to her feet as Teal’c folded Daniel over his left shoulder. 

They began moving quickly toward the Stargate. Carter seemed to lack coordination, stumbling frequently and Jack’s unease increased. He could feel her arm still shaking from shock, but now he thought perhaps from another, more physical threat. Cursing under his breath, he carefully pulled her along and noted with each step she was leaning more and more on his arm for support. She was out of breath, though they were not even running. 

Jack could now hear the trample of whatever was tracking them. It was getting louder and closer. They weren’t going to make it, especially if Carter…shit. His left arm yanked forward suddenly as she fell to her knees. Kneeling next to her, Jack could see she was terrified. Her wide, blue eyes cruelly reminded him of Daniel’s and he cringed. No. Not another one. 

"Sir…you…have…" Carter managed between gasps. "Leave…" 

Strange anger flared through Jack. Leave? Like hell. "No way, Carter. That’s not going to happen." 

"Sir," she weakly protested. 

"No," Jack firmly asserted. "And I’m not repeating it." 

Carter nodded and closed her eyes, still gasping for air. Jack helped her lie down, horribly conscious he was doing for her what she had done for Daniel only minutes ago. He tore his attention from her to seek out Teal’c. The Jaffa had stopped a few meters away and was retracing his tracks back toward them. Indecision gripped him. Carter was in no condition to travel, but he couldn’t carry her all the way back to the ‘gate. Nor would he leave her alone. The footsteps were now ominously close, adding another level of tension to his already overflowing supply. 

"O’Neill, we must go," Teal’c murmured. "We have little time." 

Jack knew there was only one choice. He would not leave any member of his team to God knew what fate. Not ever again. He shook his head minutely at Teal’c in helplessness. There was no way all of them would reach the ‘gate. Teal’c nodded his understanding. 

"I will carry Major Carter," the Jaffa offered, gently laying Daniel down on the ground next to the gasping woman. 

Jack sagged for an instant before his mind caught up with the meaning behind Teal’c’s actions. No. They couldn’t leave Daniel behind. D-dead or not. His head was pounding and he longed to rub the ache from his temples, prevented from doing so by his contaminated gloves. 

"No, Teal’c. She’s…" Jack choked, unable to keep the anguish out of his voice. Fine leader he was turning out to be. 

Carter let out a terrified, wheezing mewl, killing his words. He couldn’t look at her, not knowing there was nothing he could do to help her. Jack swallowed, watching subtle emotion trickle across Teal’c’s face. Disbelief. Anger. Misery. His eyes roamed to Teal’c’s mud covered hands and fear for the Jaffa grew. Jack had to convince Teal’c to get out of here, the only team member he had any chance to save. 

"Teal’c, you have to go get Doctor Fraiser. It’s not much of a shot, but it’s the only one Carter has," Jack ordered, ignoring knife twisting in his gut at the untruth. "You can run twice as fast as I can, but only if you’re not carrying her." 

Teal’c’s head snapped up sharply, his eyes stabbing into Jack, adding more agony to the self-induced switchblade already in him. He could almost see his friend’s thought process as Teal’c tore his eyes away to look at Daniel, then to Carter, and finally back to him. Carter weak gasps fuelled Jack’s resolve. This was the only way. Teal’c had to see that. 

"I will return," Teal’c finally answered, promise filling his words. The hand resting on Daniel moved to Carter, who had opened her eyes again. With obvious effort, she blinked at him. Teal’c’s expression softened visibly as he cupped her face in his big hands. He gave her a comforting smile and a quick nod, trying to disguise his apprehension. 

"Go," Jack whispered again. He followed Teal’c’s departing figure for a few seconds, then looked back to Carter. The woman had calmed down considerably, as if she had come to terms with what was happening to her. Having watched Daniel die right in front of them didn’t have the same effect on Jack – his panic and helplessness grew with each breath she tried to take. 

Almost anticlimactically, Carter wheezed one last breath before her body became still. Jack leaned over her and unsurprisingly felt no air leaving her mouth. He set down his gun and tilted her head back, inhaling deeply. Suddenly aware of the rustling noises now surrounding them, he paused before administering the first breaths. 

Chaos of sound and activity broke out, and Jack lost his grip on Carter. Her head flopped limply to face him, her eyes thankfully closed. Hardly cognizant of what was happening, Jack felt his arms wrenched behind him and was dragged several meters away from his friends’ bodies. He pulled his gaze away from the still figures to assess his captors. 

They were huge and very far from human. Still stunned at losing Carter, Jack couldn’t seem to fight the arms holding him. Lost. Both his teammates…friends…dead. Oh, God. His stomach rebelled, muscles turning to gel. He had failed. 

Jack forced his mind to return to studying the beings now gathered around in a circle. They were decidedly too close to Daniel and Carter for his liking. With orange toned skin and large, upturned noses, they reminded him of overgrown pigs. Bipedal, but pigs nonetheless. Their clothing seemed to substantiate the comparison – they wore filthy, slovenly tunics made of coarse material that looked like burlap. While large, he noted they were not particularly muscular – more like obese. Heavy clubs were their only weapons. Casually turning his head, he counted twelve of them, all grunting as they slowly moved in even closer to Carter and Daniel. A spark flared as the creatures began poking and prodding his friends’ bodies. 

At last, he began to struggle against the hands holding him fast, infuriated by the violation. Unsure of their intent for him, Jack held back his verbal protests until one of them picked up Daniel’s arm and bounced it a couple of times as if weighing it. It brought the archaeologist’s arm to its face, sniffed it and then gave a nod of appreciation. What? Shit…gauging for freshness? Sizing Daniel and Carter up like pieces of meat? His stomach fought against him again and he doubled over slightly. Nononono. 

"Get the hell away from them!" he screamed, adrenaline powerfully surging into his muscles. He broke away from his captors, lunging at the beasts closest to his friends. Apparently startled, the creatures immediately backed up several steps. Their apprehension did not last. 

"Gawr," a snarling voice called out, sounding irritated. "Botchu nogg." 

At the words, four of them advanced on him. Searching the ground for his weapon, Jack swung his arms crazily, hoping to scare them again. It didn’t work. Clubs raised, the creatures closed in on him. Jack threw up his gloved hands and braced for the attack. 

Nothing happened. Peering up at the towering forms in confusion, Jack tried to figure out what was going on. Movement on his left and a sudden, sharp pain on his temple answered his question. Stars floated in front of his eyes, but he clung to awareness. In seeming slow motion, he sank to the ground, at the foot of his fallen friends. 

The facts slapped him again. He had failed them. Ferocious pain exploded in his ribs as a solid kick was delivered. With a useless, silent apology to Carter and Daniel, Jack surrendered to unconsciousness. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Uncertainty tore into him. He wanted to believe O’Neill’s order had indeed been meant to save Major Carter, but could not. In her heaving breaths and the look they had shared, Teal’c had seen the truth. She would be dead before he could reach the SGC and return with help. O’Neill knew this as well, of that he was certain. He should have insisted his friend come with him. No, that would have been fruitless; O’Neill would never leave any member of his team behind. 

Teal’c struggled with that thought, legs slowing their pace. Nor should he leave O’Neill to whatever fate had been charging toward them. Running was cowardly. Despite the repercussions of doing so, he should not have followed the colonel’s order. O’Neill would have been angry, but at least Teal’c would have been able to provide support and assistance. And he would be with his friends, whatever their fate. 

He abruptly spun his body back the direction he had left SG1, halting in his tracks. He should not leave them. Could not leave them. By now, O’Neill had likely been captured. Sweat trickled down his back, lungs strangely laboring for air. Teal’c frowned. He did not feel like himself. Realization over swept his brain, and he looked down at his mud-encrusted hands. O’Neill had determined he would succumb to the same outcome as Daniel Jackson and Major Carter and had ordered him back to the Stargate in the hopes he would survive. 

Perhaps…Teal’c pivoted back around, now determined not to fail his friend. He had to also believe that here was still a chance the SGC could rescue O’Neill and recover Major Carter and Daniel Jackson. Estimating the Stargate was now only one kilometer away, Teal’c pushed his body to perform at maximum level. His shaky legs pumped at an excruciating pace. Resolve and stubborn will were his wings. 

He should not have delayed. Teal’c reprimanded himself as he reached the clearing that housed the Stargate. He hastily ran for the DHD and jammed the symbols with undue force, as if it would accelerate the wormhole’s activation. Never had it taken so long for the chevrons to light. Teal’c’s muscles were beginning to ache from tension, but he could not relax. 

Finally, the Stargate sprang to life. Teal’c transmitted SG1’s iris code and vaulted into the event horizon. Reintegrating seconds later on the other side, he realized he was breathing even more harshly, though his body was no longer pushing itself. He took a step, alarmed when his legs would not cooperate. Falling to his, he heard the familiar, metallic sound of footsteps as he intently sought out General Hammond. 

The stout commander of the SGC was making his way into the embarkation room, followed closely by Doctor Fraiser. Their arrival was inexplicably fast, and both displayed their concern plainly. He wondered at how time seemed to move simultaneously fast and slow. He blinked. Hammond studied the wormhole behind him, searching for Teal’c’s teammates. The wormhole inevitably disengaged with no more travelers and Hammond looked to him in inquiry. Teal’c bent at the waist, placing a hand on the graded ramp and inhaling deeply to replenish his oxygen depleted lungs. 

"Teal’c?" General Hammond gently asked, a supporting hand finding its way to his shoulder, squeezing to accentuate the unspoken question. 

Doctor Fraiser forced her way next to Teal’c, automatically grabbing for his wrist. He tolerated her actions with patience, waiting to speak until her probing hands had completed their task. He had to tell them. 

"He appears to be physically fine, General," the doctor announced, backing away a few steps. Her eyebrows scrunched, apparently seeing something she did not like in his face. "A little shocky. Teal’c?" 

Teal’c righted himself, squaring his shoulders and forcing the sickness in his stomach down. There was no time for weakness. There was no time for him to worry about his own fate. General Hammond kept a grip on Teal’c’s shoulder, guiding him back to his feet, then down to the foot of the ramp. Teal’c gratefully sat down. He was still having difficulty catching his breath, and dread worried around the edges of his thoughts that soon he would be too far gone to relay his message. 

Regret flowed through him as his lungs tightened with each breath, winching his chest tightly. Firsthand knowledge of what Daniel Jackson and Major Carter had undergone did nothing to relieve his alarm. If anything, it accelerated his panic. He could not permit himself to die yet. Could not. 

It was imperative that he relay the situation of SG1 to the general. Though he knew not what was in store for O’Neill, Teal’c had to believe there was still hope. And he had to believe Major Carter and Daniel Jackson’s bodies could be recovered and returned for proper memorial. The inhabiting creatures of P7J 952 must not desecrate them, as he could not help but suspect. It was an irrational assumption, but one of which he could not rid himself. Teal’c closed his eyes and fought to speak, his voice sounding muffled in his own head, "SG1…dead…do not…go…" 

Frustration welled through him as his voice failed him. He felt himself tipping over, hands gripping him, concerned voices calling his name. He attempted to respond; to tell General Hammond and Doctor Fraiser he was all right, but he was unable to stir. Teal’c’s world was dissolving into surrealism, head floating, limbs freezing. He could not fight it. His eyes executed a half blink, refusing to open again. 

Teal’c rarely felt fear such as he was feeling now, lying on the ramp with shouting voices warping above and around him. He was unable to call out, unable to move. 

Unable to breathe. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

// The world twisted kaleidoscopically around him, shouts jumbled in his head. It felt as though he was dying - every part of his body was ceasing to function. His arms. His legs. His heart. 

His voice. 

Blood rushed in Daniel’s ears, but he could sense his pulse sluggishly stopping. His heartbeat sounded solemnly in his chest, slowing to the point where he thought it had arrested completely. The pitiful beating of his heart slowed until it could no longer be heard. Terror invaded his mind as his muscles stiffened. Lungs frantic for air ceased to expand, but he was still alive. He cried out as Jack scolded him for pulling a prank, the other man’s name coming out weakly. 

Then, for him, his body seemed to freeze. He screamed and screamed, but no sound escaped his lips. Screamed as Sam’s lips pressed to his and he felt the warm gusts go into him. Shouted as Teal’c’s strong hands pressed onto his chest. God, if they… 

Augh! Pain! 

Teal’c’s compressions brutally abused his heart. If felt as if it were about to explode from the pressure. Unable to writhe away from his unintentional torturers, Daniel endured the agony. They were killing him! Stop, stop! His ribs were crackling, the horrific noise filling his ears, Sam’s voice counting over and over supplying sick harmony. Darkness snaked the edges of his vision, offering welcome relief from the hell around him. He vaguely saw Jack, sitting just behind Sam, the older man’s face pale and lined with anxiety. 

Daniel vainly attempted to speak one more time, to ease his friends’ minds. Nothing. He knew nothing but excruciating pain and frustrating immobility. He really was going to die here, at the hands of his friends. Teal’c pressed firmly onto his heart again and fire ruptured through him. Daniel mentally sobbed and allowed himself to be cradled in the arms of unconsciousness. // 

Daniel awoke with a start. Muted chattering sounded around him, but he couldn’t tell if the noises were animal or human in nature. Light shined on his closed eyelids, making his world fuzzy red; a nasty stench permeated the air, both familiar and foreign at the same time. His skin tingled sharply and unpleasantly. Slowly becoming more aware, Daniel felt something warm on his right hand and heard a voice he * _did_ * recognize next to him. Jack. Daniel tried to turn toward the older man. 

Oh, God. He couldn’t move. Panic spiked into him like a spear, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. With every thump, pain blazed. What happened? Where was he? Mind racing, Daniel tried to piece together his memory, but all he could glean was a resurgence of tortured breathing and suffering. Jack. Jack was with him. What about Sam? Teal’c? 

Straining his ears, Daniel listened for any indication of his other friends. All he could distinguish was Jack, so he clung to the older man’s voice as though it were a life preserver. What he heard did little to assuage his fear. Daniel couldn’t make out all the murmured words, but full translation wasn’t necessary. Jack sounded lost and soul tired. Dead? Jack thought he was dead. Not just him, Sam… 

He had to make Jack see he was still alive. Had to move something. Anything. Eyes. Daniel had to see where he was. Icy air breezed across his bare skin. Bare? Gooseflesh broke out across his arms…at least he wildly hoped it did. Perhaps Jack would notice the small physiological response. He waited for a reaction from Jack, disappointment swelling when none came. He mustered all of his will on the effort to open his eyes. 

Jack’s thumb absently caressed his cold hand in a comforting massage. Daniel garnered strength through the physical contact, wishing his friend could know the effect it was having on and for him. The soothing balm it was for his tattered nerves. A brief flash of white cut across his vision, stunningly brilliant proof he was making headway. Almost there! He could do this. Daniel mentally grunted with exertion, prying uncooperative eyelids open. 

Yes!! 

Lying on his back, looking straight up, Daniel’s first glimpse of his new environment was a low, gray ceiling. He attempted to move his eyes, agitation building when they refused to comply. Daniel cursed to himself. He needed to do more to make Jack look at him. More than for the simple reason of proving to Jack he was alive, * _he_ * needed to see his friend. To see that awful, guilt ridden expression he remembered disappear from Jack’s face. Concentrating on the hand Jack had enveloped in his own, he victoriously felt his fingers twitch. He was elated beyond belief. 

"Daniel?" Jack’s hand instantly released its grip, leaving Daniel’s cold and limp on the floor. The colonel’s voice held notes of shocked amazement, immediately quashed by grimness. "Oh, God. He’s dead, O’Neill. You’re really losing it."

Daniel moaned with frustration, surprised when he heard a weak, strangled sound fill the air. Half a second later, Jack’s face floated above his. Deep lines creased the other man’s forehead, bringing with them the illusion he had aged years in the past few hours. But interspersed in the worry-lines, hope flickered, and Daniel had never seen a more beautiful sight. He’d done it. 

"Daniel?" Jack repeated, gazing into Daniel’s now open eyes. "What?" 

He’d already made noise; he could do it again. Daniel coaxed his vocal chords, rewarded with another garroted groan. God, this was so hard. Tears of aggravation welled in his eyes, spilling out and trickling warmly down his temples. Jack brushed them aside, a huge smile suddenly splitting his face in two. 

Then Jack O’Neill did something Daniel did not expect at all, sliding slightly shaky hands underneath his shoulders, lifting him gently into a hug. Pain rocketed through his chest as Jack squeezed him, and Daniel groaned in earnest. He was strangely pleased at the ease in which the sound left him in spite of the pain. Jack stiffened and pulled away slightly, hands firmly holding onto his shoulders. 

"Shit. I’m sorry, Daniel. I just…I tho…I thought you were dead," Jack apologized, eyes flickering with a wince to Daniel’s chest. "You * _were_ * dead. Carter, too." 

"N..not," Daniel wheezed, finally winning the battle for control of his voice. "Not dead. Sam? T-" 

"You’re not dead. God, Daniel," Jack choked, pulling him into the hug again, gentler this time. "Sam’s right here." 

Daniel urged his arms to return the embrace, disheartened when they merely flopped a little. He was dazed at Jack’s overwhelming response and stunned his friend seemed to be disregarding Sam. Until he realized Jack was only human and that he clearly needed time to process the facts. Facts he was more than a little interesting in knowing himself. 

"How…" Daniel gasped, "How long? What…happened?" 

One of Jack’s hands moved to the back of his head, and he felt himself being guided back down onto the ground. Daniel flicked his eyes around, caught sight of Sam, only a few feet away. She was absolutely still and very pale, dressed only in a cropped shirt and shorts, both made of burlap. Concern spiked through him as he realized she must have become paralyzed as he had. 

Jack inhaled a shaky breath at Daniel’s inquiry, looking uncertain he wanted to relive it. Daniel was tempted to take back his request, appraising Jack for the first time. Like Sam, the older man was minimally clothed, wrapped only in an uncomfortable looking loincloth. A spectacular bruise decorated his left temple, accompanied by a large bump. The ribs on Jack’s right side displayed similar bruising, but it didn’t look serious. The worst, though, was the expression stealing across Jack’s face. 

Watching the other man’s face struggling to contain its emotions, Daniel’s heart faltered. The physical reaction instantly reminded him of his earlier ordeal, making him gasp in horror. Was it worse for him, actually experiencing ‘death’? Or was it worse for Jack, watching at least two of his team members fall before his very eyes? Helpless. The expression on Jack’s face before he passed out from the pain would forever be imprinted in his memory. It was that look which Jack bore now, harried and anxious. Underlying those feelings, he could see something else. Fear and nausea. 

Daniel didn’t think he’d enjoy what he was about to hear. 

~~~~~~~~ 

The first thing Jack noticed upon regaining consciousness was that his skin hurt, a lot. He felt as though someone had taken to every inch of his body with sandpaper. Very coarse sandpaper. The second thing he noticed was a very loud din in his head, which throbbed in unison with his tender skin. A few disoriented moments lapsed before he finally remembered where he was. P7J 952, a designation he’d never forget. 

Assuming he made it off this rock to live unhappily for more than a few hours or days. Oh, shit. Live…Daniel, Carter. 

Jack sat up abruptly, regretting the action almost immediately. The world looped several times, then gradually settled. He ignored his new surroundings for the time being, focused on his friends’ bodies splayed out in front of him. They were mostly naked and looked as though they had been scrubbed from head to toe, their exposed skin unnaturally pink. That helped explain the sandpaper feel he was experiencing himself. His mind automatically leapt to a horrible conclusion: apparently the pig things were fussy about the cleanliness of their food. Jack shuddered. 

Carter and Daniel’s SGC uniforms had been replaced with scant covering of the same material the brutes had worn. A quick glance down at himself confirmed he was also clad in the same material, and just as sparsely. Sending a prayer of thanks that he couldn’t recall the involuntary change of attire, he turned his attention back to his friends. A massive bruise spread across Daniel’s chest from Carter and Teal’c’s CPR attempts; Jack imagined he could see knuckle prints imbedded in the flesh over his sternum. God. He suddenly couldn’t look at the other man, turning his head to view his other lost team member. Carter actually didn’t appear all that bad - she just looked as if she were sleeping. How he wished that were the case. He looked away from both friends, their lifelessness too painful. 

Scanning the surroundings, he determined he was in a holding pen of sorts. Solid bars encircled them, and he noted several cages adjacent to his…theirs, with animals of various sizes peering at him through the bars. Some made terrified noises; others appeared already dead. Nothing he came across in his visual surveillance yielded any potential escape route, and, try as he might, Jack couldn’t keep his focus from returning to Carter and Daniel. Dead, dead. No. He couldn’t keep torturing himself, had to think of something else. What? His captors, the future. He, they were obviously being held temporarily – Jack had no doubt they’d all eventually end up on a dinner plate. All of them. It was a small thing, but at least he had the comfort of knowing his friends wouldn’t be aware when it happened. 

Spurred by those unsavory thoughts, Jack rose unsteadily to his feet. There had to be some way out of here. If he could break out, he could also jimmy a way to cart his friends back to the Stargate and home. No. Crap. On a good day, he might get one of them out. He’d never be able to get both Carter and Daniel out, and he damn well wasn’t going to choose which of them got a dignified, deserved burial and which got to be the main course for a bunch of sloppy brutes. All he could really do was wait for Teal’c to come back for them, rescue him and help him get their teammates’ bodies back home. He had no doubt the Jaffa would do so. He just hoped it wouldn’t be a long wait. And that he’d be alive to enjoy the liberation. 

Weakly rubbing his forehead, Jack sank to his knees between the scientists. He stared at them each in turn, then squeezed his eyes shut, reopened them and took both Carter and Daniel by a hand, grimacing at the stiff, cold reminder of their deaths. He swallowed the bile that automatically threatened up his throat, forcing himself to talk though he wasn’t sure why he found it so vital for him to do so. Mindlessly, he murmured over and over, not aware that what was coming from his mouth were apologies. Useless apologies; no forgiveness could be gained. How could either forgive his inability to save them? They were dead, dead. 

Sitting motionless, he lost track of time, of everything. Muscle twinges eventually brought him back to unpleasant reality and were evidence he’d been still for a good long while. Ignoring the spikes of discomfort, though, Jack continued to stroke their lifeless hands in a dual massage. He tried to sell himself into believing their skin warmed with the motion, though deep down he knew it could be no more than simple friction. Physics. Never in a million years would he have imagined he would have been this profoundly impacted by the loss of team…friends. He’d faced worse loss before but hadn’t felt so helpless in years. Since Charlie… He pulled himself from the dark path his mind wanted to take. 

Teal’c. 

Teal’c had been gone too long, and he began to doubt rescue was imminent. Teal’c had that deadly mud all over his hands, and it had been proven on several occasions that Jaffa were not completely impervious. What if Teal’c hadn’t made it? What if the Pigs were already scouting for his friend’s body or were on their way back here with it? That would be bad enough, but Jack couldn’t keep the worst-case scenarios from flying into his overactive imagination. Teal’c might have made it to the SGC, but hadn’t been able to tell the general what had happened before he died. God, Hammond probably wouldn’t authorize another team through, worried the same outcome would befall them. 

Rescue? Who the hell cared? If he lived while all of his friends died, life wouldn’t matter. All efforts to steer clear of dark thoughts apparently were fruitless. Jack tried to just clear his head. If he didn’t think, then it couldn’t hurt. Didn’t think about failing Daniel and Carter and Teal’c, didn’t think about his own fate. Didn’t think about anything. 

His attempt at self-protection didn’t work; he was still vaguely aware of his captors coming into the pens periodically, each time taking several animals. The population rapidly became sparse, but those remaining were in such a panic the noise level had increased considerably. None of that mattered to him, nor did the fact that he would soon be taken. 

Distracted by the irritating cacophony and grim thoughts, Jack nearly missed it. 

"Daniel?" he whispered, jerking his hand away from the archaeologist. Movement! Daniel had moved, he swore it. Jack stared at the unmoving limb, willing it twitch and prove he wasn’t crazy. Doubt flagged him back down as quickly as hope had risen. "Oh, God. He’s dead, O’Neill. You’re really losing it." 

Hesitating to recapture Daniel’s hand, Jack turned to Carter. Hallucinating. He was just getting a little more hysterical, that’s all. A soft, gurgling noise negated the assumption of his own impending insanity. He let go of Carter’s hand and darted back to Daniel, hovering above the archaeologist’s face. Blue eyes stared back at him sightlessly. His heart pumped wildly, adrenaline charging through him and making him sweat despite the chill conditions. He was going to be sick, wanted to look away from those dead…wait, wait, wait. Teal’c had closed Daniel’s eyes; they had been shut the entire time he’d been in this cage. Hadn’t they? Confused hope again surged through him. 

"Daniel? What?" 

The younger man didn’t move, and Jack instantly began fearing he’d imagined everything. Another groan faintly emerged from Daniel’s throat, tears filling the blue eyes and overflowing down the sides of his face. Unqualified joy surged through him. Alive! Daniel was alive. Jack didn’t care how, he didn’t care why. Just that he hadn’t lost another person he cared about. Shakily raising a hand, he wiped the warm tears from Daniel’s face. Jack smiled widely, pulled the younger man to him and squeezed tight. By some miracle, he had his friend back and nothing else mattered. It wasn’t until Daniel let out a stronger moan that he remembered the bruising on the archaeologist’s chest. He loosened his grip immediately. 

"Shit. I’m sorry, Daniel. I just…I tho…I thought you were dead. You * _were_ * dead. Carter, too." 

The archaeologist’s lips moved wordlessly, face still rigid, but his eyes made up for it. Jack never thought he’d see life in them again, and was so relieved that the experience could be compared to a nightmare: it was scary and heartrending and horrible, but it would fade with time. 

At last, Daniel succeeded in speaking, his voice raspy and panicked, "N…Not. Not dead. Sam? T-" 

"You’re not dead. God, Daniel," Jack couldn’t refrain from repeating those beautiful words, needing reaffirmation. "Carter’s right here." 

He ignored the fact that Daniel was still cold as death, hugging the man gently to him again. Daniel’s muscles trembled beneath him, heart beating reassuringly against his own. Alive. Jack knew he should check on Carter to see if she was beginning to resurface from whatever had afflicted both of them, but he didn’t want to let go of Daniel. Not yet. 

"How…how long?" Daniel weakly murmured in his ear. "What…happened? Teal’c?" 

Cradling the back of Daniel’s head, Jack gently guided his friend down to the floor. He frowned as the image of Daniel and Carter being measured by their captors popped unsolicited into his mind’s eye. Bile rose in his throat. Time wasn’t going to let this nightmare fade. He didn’t want to tell Daniel they were about to become the main course to some nasty looking critters, not after the shock he had already been through. There was no choice. 

"What do you remember?" Jack hedged, switching his gaze over to Carter. His second in command lay prone, showing no signs of waking. He returned to Daniel. "Anything?" 

"Not…much," Daniel rasped. The younger man’s right arm flailed haphazardly, slapping down onto his bare chest. "Couldn’t b-reathe…stopped…Teal’c…" 

Daniel’s face contorted as if he were reliving the experience. Jack flinched, comprehension dawning. Oh, God, Daniel had been aware, had been awake, when Carter and Teal’c had tried resuscitating him. Unconsciously rubbing his own chest, he swallowed heavily. He couldn’t even imagine the agony. He moved his hands, resting one upon Daniel’s chest, the other on the archaeologist’s cheek. Daniel nodded, wincing in discomfort – his muscles apparently protesting any movement after going so long without. 

"Jesus," Jack breathed. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

"Hurt," Daniel groaned. "A lot. Think…I passed out." 

"I’m so sorry, Daniel." 

"For what? You…didn’t know. What…hap-pened next?" 

Jack sighed, running a hand through his freshly washed hair, cringed at the reminder of their situation. He didn’t know how much time they had before the Pigs came back, but he knew he’d better explain everything before they did. Jack sneaked another look at Carter. "You think she’s in there…like you were?" 

"Did…you…" Daniel stopped, patting his sternum in demonstration. 

He was ridiculously glad to see the younger man’s increased motor control, despite the terrible images the gesture conjured up for him. A little movement was okay; at least his friend wouldn’t lay helpless while he was being eaten. Jack swallowed. 

"No," he shook his head. "Didn’t have time." 

"Good." Daniel smiled crookedly. 

"Yeah. Before I could, these big, ugly things surrounded us. Starting futzing with you and Carter," Jack quickly reported. "When I objected, one of ‘em smashed me on the side of the head." 

"I can…see that," the archaeologist nodded, closing his eyes. For a second, Jack thought Daniel had passed out again and that he’d not have to say any more. Daniel’s eyes abruptly snapped back open, startling him. "Teal’c?" 

Jack felt the already deep lines on his face turn into crevasses. Teal’c. Concern for his friend resurfaced. He shouldn’t assume Teal’c would always be able to pull through for them, though he’d never seen any less from his friend. At least he could be fairly certain Teal’c wasn’t dead, but his friend could by lying paralyzed out there somewhere. Worse, he could have been captured and was being held separately from them for some inexplicable reason. Prime location for a prime specimen? Did he really want to tell Daniel his speculations? No, he didn’t want any additional doubt to filter through to his slowly recovering, thankgodalive, friend. He didn’t really have a choice. 

"Jack?" 

He knew Daniel. Knew the archaeologist wouldn’t let up, and he realized his desire to protect the younger man would likely only result in more pain. If Teal’c… Jack straightened his back, faced the archaeologist and began to tell the story. 

~~~~~~~~ 

She wasn’t dead? 

Confusion effused through Sam as she woke up. Her uncooperative body must have been unable to overcome exhaustion; she didn’t recall falling asleep. The last thing she could coherently remember was lying, seemingly dead, on the ground while Colonel O’Neill fought against the…animals that had captured them. Through a petrified fog, she’d not been able to fully understand what was going on, just that she felt somehow sullied. Hands had probed her rudely, disregarding her vain, silent protests. 

That horrible thudding sound as the colonel slumped to the ground after, she assumed, being beaten wouldn’t soon leave her memory, none of this would. She remembered being roughly slung over some foul-smelling creatures shoulder. She had swayed upside down for what seemed like an eternity. Just as she’d thought her stomach would overcome the paralysis and lose its contents, she’d been dumped onto a cold surface. Her clothing had been removed, she’d been dunked in icy water and violated yet again by unfeeling hands scrubbing her naked form. Amazingly, clothing had been provided, and finally she’d been deposited into a dank, freezing place. Two accompanying thuds told her she wasn’t alone, but the lack of movement had been terrifying. 

She wasn’t dead, though. Reaffirming to herself lent a smidgen of comfort. Sam concentrated on taking what stock she could about her surroundings. Frightened animal sounds now came from all around her, but nothing from the colonel or Teal’c. Or Daniel. Her heart beat faster when she realized Daniel must still be alive, assuming she’d undergone the same thing as he. Oh, God. Her body automatically remembered the panic she had experienced as paralysis set in. The same panic Daniel had exhibited, though she at least had the benefit of knowing what was coming. Having witnessed Daniel’s ‘death’ had prepared her a little for the awful experience, but she’d still been terrified to feel her body systematically shut down. The colonel’s face was another terrible thing that would forever be imprinted in her memory. It had been so white, grooved with deep, grim lines. To have watched Daniel…to have then watched her… 

Shit! She had to stop thinking about it, push aside the horrifying truth that Daniel had likely been conscious while she and Teal’c had done CPR on him. Sam knew what that could do to him. Stop, stop. This wasn’t helping. She forced herself to concentrate once again, heartened when she heard familiar voices now drifting over to her. Daniel was okay. She and Teal’c hadn’t done him more harm than good. She had to believe that. The voices. The colonel and Teal’c? No, Teal’c had gone for help, hadn’t he? 

"So…he…got some of this…stuff on his hands?" That was Daniel. Daniel! Relief bled through her numb body at confirmation of her teammate’s state of life. 

"Yeah. But I’m sure he’s fine. Teal’c’ll be here any second with the cavalry," O’Neill assured, but Sam didn’t think he sounded convinced. 

"He…will." Daniel’s breathlessness made her ache. "Do you think…maybe we…should rub…her arms and…legs? To get…circ…" 

Her, her? 

"Good idea," the colonel interrupted, sounding as disturbed as she by Daniel’s difficulties. "But I’ll do it." 

"Jack."

"Damnit, Daniel, you can hardly move. Don’t argue with me about this. Please." Ah, the secret weapon. 

Silence fell around her. She imagined the communication that was likely still being carried out. Finally, something cold tugged on her left hand, folding around it. A slight motion on the top, a thumb brushing across it, flooded her with warmth even though the digit was icy. Daniel. The colonel, motor skills clearly intact, started rubbing her arms, and she was surprised when they actually began to tingle with the stimulation. 

"Jack…why are…they keeping…us here?" Daniel asked several minutes into the massage. 

Sam heard the colonel suck in a quiet lungful of air. His massage on her arms halted at her wrists, squeezing them tightly. She wasn’t sure what his reply would entail, but she knew she wasn’t going to like it. 

"I think…I think we might be, uh, dinner, Daniel," O’Neill whispered. "Keep in mind that’s just a guess. These critters don’t exactly have top notch communication skills, and I’ve been a little too preoccupied to even try." 

"Dinner…as in…* _dinner_ *?" Daniel dumbly repeated, disbelief coloring his words. Sam heard him swallow audibly. "Oh, God." 

"Yeah. They were sizing you guys up like pieces of meat. Which is why we need to get you mobile. Damned if I’m going to let them eat me, or you and Carter." 

Sam’s mind raced, horribly filling in the blanks. Violated didn’t even begin to describe how she was feeling now that she knew specifics on the vague unease she’d had before. God, she’d been scrubbed down like a potato for the stew pot. Dinner? Over her dead body. Amused by the ironic appropriateness of that particular adage, she felt a chuckle build. Willing it to actually come to fruition, Sam focused on the muscles of her throat. A muted, strangled croak filled the air. It startled her, though she’d worked so hard to effect it. 

"Sam? Jack, it’s…working. S-am?" 

Encouraged by Daniel’s prompting, Sam groaned again and peeled stubborn eyelids open. The archaeologist’s blue eyes were inches from her own, filled with a mixture of concern and excitement. She wanted to kiss him. The colonel’s face appeared beside Daniel’s, plastered with a reassuring smile. She wanted to kiss him, too. 

"Hey, Carter. Welcome back!" the colonel said through his cheesy grin. 

Her CO’s hand enfolded her cheek, a comforting gesture she’d seen him use on several occasions, though she hadn’t been on the receiving end herself. She blinked, and leaned into the embrace. The colonel promptly took his hand off her face and wrapped it instead behind her shoulders, pulling her up into a warm hug. Through it, she could feel Daniel’s slightly warmer hand squeezing hers. 

Logic dictated they didn’t have time for this mini celebration, but Sam relished it anyway. As close as SG1 was, they rarely expressed their feelings openly. Hell, if it took death to do it, she was strangely delighted for horrible experience. She was just glad it hadn’t been for real. 

"Good…to…be…back, sir," Sam rasped. Her right arm jerked to return the colonel’s hug, and she was pleased at how quickly she seemed to be regaining control over her muscles. She wasn’t able to maintain the position for more than a couple of seconds, but she considered it a victory nonetheless. Only a couple of minutes ago, making noise had been a supreme effort. As her hand flopped to her side, the colonel laid her back down on the ground. Sam turned her face to Daniel. 

"You’re alive," she said quietly. 

"You know…that’s what…Jack…kept saying," Daniel smiled at her. "Yes, I am…very much…alive." 

Frowning at Daniel’s apparently persistent lack of breath, Sam surveyed him as best she could from her position. Practically naked, Daniel’s skin was covered in gooseflesh. He looked extremely pale, and she caught sight of a dark, purplish bruise covering his chest. Unable to avert her eyes from the sight, the image of Teal’c’s hands pounding into him playing over and over in front of her, she was surprised when she felt Daniel’s grip tighten suddenly. She looked to his face, expecting to see pain, but he only projected reassurance. The archaeologist nodded at her, and she relaxed. Of course he was having problems talking; if they hadn’t cracked any ribs, the bruising was probably deep enough to cause a heck of a lot of pain with each inhalation. But he’d be all right. He would. 

"Stay that way," she lightly commanded, only half joking. 

"I second it, and that goes for you too, Carter," the colonel chimed in. She looked his direction as his face turned serious again. "How much of our conversation did you catch?" 

"Enough…sir. I’m sure Teal’c will be…here soon." Damn, she was stuttering, too. She cringed as the colonel did so externally. "If he was exposed, Janet will be able to tell he’s not…dead." 

"I hope you’re right, Carter. We can’t count on it, though. You saw those things, right?" 

She nodded, closing her eyes. Oh, yeah. She had seen them all right. Sam vividly remembered fingers prying her eyelids open and the faces that had accompanied the rough hands cleaning and clothing her, drooling at the same time. Bile rose in her throat, and she savagely choked it back down. Sullied didn’t even come close to describing the revulsion within her. 

"Sam?" Daniel queried apprehensively, his face appearing above her. He lost his balance, tilting off to the side with a wince as he continued, "What’s…wrong?" 

"Nothing. Just remembering something distasteful," she answered, giving a small smile. "You’re right, sir. Definitely don’t want to sit on our hands here." 

"Are they…that bad? Maybe I…could…try to talk…to them." 

"Right," O’Neill snorted. "Daniel, not that I doubt your skills or anything, but there’s no way you’ll be able to convince them we’re anything but gourmet dining. You can’t even string together a sentence in English, let alone pigspeak. Anday Iay ontday inkthay eythay eakspay igpay atinlay. Too much effort. Even if you could decipher their language, how do you expect to win them over before they start digging in? You’re good, but that’s not a chance I can take." 

Sam glared at him for his poor taste. Now was really not the time for sarcasm, though she had to admit she agreed with his line of thought. Granted, she’d only had short exposure to them, but she really didn’t think the aliens would be willing to negotiate. SG1 was meat to them and nothing more. However, Daniel had been known to pull some major rabbits out of his hat, and she wasn’t willing to completely dismiss the idea. 

"Well…maybe they…have never…seen…other sentient beings. And I’m…talking just…fine, ankthay…ouyay!" Daniel’s voice rose in pitch as he spoke, agitation seeming to increase the pain in his chest. The elbow he was leaning on gave out, and he collapsed back to the ground with a groan. 

Guilt at her part in Daniel’s pain blistered through her as his groan turned into weak coughs. Involuntarily flinching as his head thudded on the stone floor, Sam willed her stomach muscles to help her sit up. The colonel quickly moved to assist her, his hands gripping her forearms. Once sitting, the room began to spin and her heart beat like she had just run ten miles. Fuzzy black spots danced across her vision, and she swayed slightly. 

"Hey, you okay?" the colonel nervously asked, his hands contracting on her forearms. 

"Fine, sir. Just a little dizzy." She extracted of her hands and rubbed it across her eyes. "Should have expected it. It’s not everyday I’m mostly…dead." 

The room began to calm to a level she thought she could bear. Placing her hands on the ground behind her back, she shakily propped herself up. She glanced over to the reason she’d attempted to move in the first place. Daniel hadn’t even attempted to move and was staring at her with blatant alarm. She must look as bad as she felt but knew she had to be ready to go. Daniel did too, for that matter.

"Daniel, the colonel’s right. I don’t think we’re going to have…time for you to learn how to communicate with these things. From what I can tell, they’re…barely above animals," Sam assessed, twinging to see her words slap Daniel. He assumed his ‘I’m hurt you don’t believe in me’ look. She quickly looked away and assuaged, "I’m not saying you can’t learn; I’m just saying I don’t think we should spend any more time here than we have to. You know this." 

Daniel gave a deep sigh. Sam looked back at him and saw his face looked resigned. She knew despite the creatures had captured them and intended to do all sorts of harm to them, Daniel would always want to try to find a peaceful solution. She also knew, however, Daniel realized the impossibility of his ideals in some situations. Situations such as these. 

"You’re…right," Daniel conceded. "Help me…up?" 

"Daniel, are you sure you’re ready?" the colonel inquired. "You still don’t look so good." 

"There’s no…choice. I…have to be…ready. We’ll…probably need to…move quickly, right?" 

"Yeah," O’Neill responded, a strange, apologetic look shading his face as he bent down to help the archaeologist. "Carter, you doing all right?" 

"Fine, sir. I don’t think I’ll be running any marathons, though." She felt like absolute hell. 

"I’ll keep that in mind," the colonel retorted, grunting as he pulled Daniel to his feet, bearing most of the younger man’s weight. "I looked for any way out before, but I didn’t have much luck. Maybe you should check it out, Carter." 

Automatically beginning to search for a means for possible escape, Sam shakily walked along the barred walls of their cage. She slid her hands along each bar, both to keep her unsteady balance and to look for weaknesses in the materials. To her disappointment, the cage’s construction was far more advanced than she’d expected, given the assumed intellectual level of their captors. She looked back at her teammates, who had their arms wrapped around each other. Both were wavering because of Daniel’s lack of strength. Pursing her lips, she merely shook her head. The colonel loudly exhaled, wiping his free hand across his mouth. Daniel simply looked ill. 

Frustrated, Sam kicked one of the slats. Pain jolted from her bare toes all the way to her hip. She hobbled back over to her companions, intending to lend support on Daniel’s other side. She only walked two steps when a loud clanging sounded behind her. 

Spinning back around, Sam realized they’d just run out of time. 

~~~~~~~~ 

"I don’t know what to tell you, sir. These readings show Teal’c’s respiratory and muscular functions are depressed. His heart rate is alarmingly low – barely enough to sustain his life. If I didn’t have the proper equipment, I might believe him to be dead," Doctor Fraiser’s voice floated from somewhere off to his right. 

Teal’c lay motionless, his finely muscled arms and legs unable to help the doctor see and understand that he was here, now, and most emphatically not oblivious. After overcoming the initial shock and fright at his paralyzed state, he had been continuously trying to communicate with Doctor Fraiser and her staff. The fate of his friends weighed even more heavily on him now he knew they were likely still alive, but extremely vulnerable to attack. Anger built in him at the thought, and Teal’c clung to that anger in the hopes it might accelerate his recovery. All three of his friends’ lives depended on it. 

All three. It was indeed good to know that his return to P7J 952 would be for rescue, not retrieval. He had to believe this was truth. 

"What are you saying, Doctor? That the rest of SG1 may be out there alive?" General Hammond’s questions bounded from the opposite side of the bed. "And like this, defenseless?" 

"I’m not certain I can make that supposition, sir. When Teal’c first came back, I assumed him to be suffering from shock and that he had automatically placed himself in Kel No’reem. That was a huge mistake," Doctor Fraiser sounded apologetic. "I didn’t even think to rush the labwork. Yet, judging from the little he was able to tell, I wouldn’t rule out that possibility." 

Wanting to alleviate the doctor’s remorse, Teal’c fought his muscles. It alarmed him greatly he had been frozen for an apparently great length of time. Daniel Jackson and Major Carter were likely still afflicted by whatever had caused the paralysis, helpless. But alive. Alive they would remain, if only he could persuade his body to cooperate. 

"I’m assuming you have the results now?" 

"Yes, sir. Teal’c’s blood shows traces of an alien chemical. The best I can determine, it works as a powerful and relatively fast acting sedative. It’s similar to a plant extract called curare – used by some South American tribes to paralyze and kill both their enemies and animals. I don’t think Teal’c’s level of exposure was enough to do permanent damage, plus it seems to have come from the mud he was caked with. Typically, in order for a drug to take effect, it’s inhaled or injected. I didn’t find any puncture wounds on him anywhere so I’m going to assume the contact he had was topical and/or airborne," Doctor Fraiser quickly ran down his symptoms, her voice increasing in tempo as she progressed. "If it * _was*_ airborne, we’d have had some cases here already." 

Teal’c’s heart pounded. If only small contact had produced such results in him, how much worse would it have been for Major Carter and Daniel Jackson? His concern for them mounted, and he wondered if perhaps they had not survived the experience. Especially Daniel Jackson; of the three, he had the most mud on his person. 

"What does that mean for the rest of SG1?" General Hammond asked as if reading Teal’c’s thoughts. 

"This is just a guess, General, but if SG1 was exposed to this chemical, it’s likely they didn’t survive. Without the benefit of a Goa’uld symbiote, I’m not positive Teal’c would have, either." No, Doctor Fraiser’s assumption must be incorrect. "I’m sorry, sir. It’s all dependent on their level of exposure, but if such a small amount could knock Teal’c out for so long I don’t see how they could still be alive." 

"That seems to fit what Teal’c was able to say when he first came through. I’ve held off sending a search team until this point, but it just doesn’t feel right to leave them there. I’ve kept SG2 on stand down. I’ll send them through to recover SG1," General Hammond said softly. 

Unwilling to believe the anaesthetic was powerful enough to kill his friends, Teal’c felt hope build. He must find a way to triumph over his paralysis and find SG1 before harm came to them from another source, from the beings he had heard. Furthermore, it was vital for him to relay this information to General Hammond and SG2. They must be prepared for any possibility. Should they be too late to save his teammates, the scenes that would greet any rescue or recovery team could be quite disturbing. 

"I just wish Teal’c could provide us with more information before I send another team through the ‘gate. The MALP doesn’t show there is any additional threat, but with what’s already happened and our luck…" 

Teal’c wrestled internally, and a loud bleeping sounded on his left, the sound of his heartbeat increasing. Keeping that blessed noise his focal point, he forced his eyelids open. 

"Sir, I think he’s coming out of it," Doctor Fraiser excitedly called. "Teal’c? Teal’c, can you hear me?" 

A warm hand on his arm immediately followed the exclamation, reassuring and strong. His arm minutely jerked in response, its motion uncontrolled. Teal’c groaned as his muscles cramped painfully, but was encouraged by the success. He was almost there; he just needed to summon all of his Jaffa training to bring himself totally out. General Hammond’s bald head materialized above him, his expression one of eager apprehension. It pulled him even further toward animation, and he thought he could now control his voice. 

"General Hammond…you must…" Teal’c began, astonished at the weakness of his tone. 

"It’s all right, Teal’c," the commander soothed. "Take it easy." 

"I…cannot. It is imperative…I…inform…" 

"Doctor, is there anything you can do to help him?" 

"I don’t think so, sir," Doctor Fraiser reported, her heart-shaped face leaning closer as she grabbed Teal’c’s hand. "He seems to be drawing himself out very well on his own. I think Junior might have much to do with that." 

"SG1?" Teal’c inquired. He attempted to lift his head and shoulders off the pillows cushioning them. The sooner he got moving, the sooner he could lead a rescue team to his friends. "O’Neill…not…just…" 

"Try not to rush it, Teal’c. You’re body has just experienced quite a shock," Doctor Fraiser easily pushed him back to a reclining position with one hand, motioning for an aide with her other. "Take slow, deep breaths. Your muscles need as much oxygen as possible to return to a normal level of function." 

Nodding in acquiescence, Teal’c accepted the oxygen mask from the nurse suddenly appearing at Doctor Fraiser’s side. He remained quiet as the doctor and nurse assessed him, poking and prodding. It was most difficult. His mind raced while his body strove to recover, already back on P7J 952 and seeking his team. Striving to tamp down on that impulse, Teal’c calmly breathed the oxygen and allowed it to do its job. Logic dictated he could not assist his friends if he was unable to move with great proficiency. As much as he wanted to leap from the bed and run to the Stargate, Teal’c understood that would only cause a delay. 

Finally, Teal’c thought he could manage to speak without gasping. He set aside the breathing mask and leaned forward. "General Hammond, I must return to P7J 952." 

"Don’t worry, Teal’c. I was just about to send SG2 through…but can you tell us what happened first? Is there something else we should be aware of?" The outline of General Hammond’s head seemed to wobble as the commander helped him sit up. Teal’c frowned. 

He took a shaky breath and said, "I can. As we approached the structure Daniel Jackson desired to study, it became apparent the earth surrounding it was not solid. Colonel O’Neill ordered we should not trek across it without…waders. Major Carter and Daniel Jackson climbed atop a short wall and discovered there were indeed life forms occupying the building. Before we could take our leave, Daniel Jackson lost his footing and fell into the mud. I regret, General Hammond, that I am responsible for endangering the life of Major Carter when I pushed her in after him." 

Unexpectedly out of breath, Teal’c paused for a few seconds. Doctor Fraiser began to rub his biceps in a supportive manner, telling him to take his time. He knew, though, that he could not. 

"You p-pushed her in?" General Hammond stammered disbelievingly. Teal’c rotated his head to view the general, guilt filling him once again as he saw the man’s shock. 

"I am indeed very regretful my actions have harmed her, perhaps have even resulted in her death. I cannot change it. However, I can go back to P7J 952 and ensure that she, Daniel Jackson and O’Neill are returned to Earth," Teal’c stopped, powerless to stop the slight wince from appearing on his lips. "Whether they are alive or not." 

"Teal’c, if Major Carter and Daniel Jackson were the only other ones exposed to this…anaesthetic…why didn’t Colonel O’Neill return with you?" 

The general’s question fueled Teal’c’s concern once again. He abruptly asked, "How long was I immobilized?" 

"About two hours, Teal’c," Doctor Fraiser answered. "I’m not so sure you should be moving anytime soon either." 

"I must." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. 

"Why, Teal’c? What else happened on that planet?" General Hammond placed a gentle but unyielding hand on his right forearm. 

Realizing he hadn’t finished briefing the general, Teal’c stopped attempting to rise. He straightened his shoulders in preparation and resumed the tale in a steady, emotionless tone, "Major Carter and Daniel Jackson extracted themselves from the mud, and we began the journey back to the Stargate. We had not traveled far when Daniel Jackson began exhibiting signs of distress. He struggled to breathe; Major Carter and I assisted him to lie down. It did not help and he ceased breathing. We immediately attempted to resuscitate Daniel Jackson, but our efforts failed." 

Doctor Fraiser gasped, her face paling and a hand clamping over her mouth for a second. She removed it, her eyes widening as she verbalized the horror flowing through her mind, "Teal’c, if he was simply paralyzed like you, CPR could have – " 

"I am aware now we may have done more injury than good to Daniel Jackson," Teal’c hollowly interrupted. Doctor Fraiser’s face shined with sympathetic dismay. Teal’c said no more on the subject, quickly continuing instead, "For several moments, we did not move. It was then when I heard motion a short distance away, movement that seemed to be approaching our location. Immediately, I gathered Daniel Jackson’s…body and we proceeded toward the Stargate once again. Only several minutes passed before Major Carter started having difficulty breathing. It was not long before she became powerless to travel of her own will. Colonel O’Neill would not leave her. I could think only to leave Daniel Jackson and carry her to safety." 

Doctor Fraiser emitted a gasp and Teal’c paused, knowing his face was revealing all of his anguish. Jaffa stoicism did not matter, not when either choice he had had been so unacceptable. Yet, if faced with a similar situation, he knew he would do the same. It would be no less difficult. 

"Teal’c?" General Hammond’s grip on his arm switched suddenly to a vise. His face pressed closer to Teal’c’s, gray eyes demanding the rest of the story. 

"O’Neill also would not allow Daniel Jackson to remain alone, though he was dead," Teal’c nearly choked on the word. His friends were * _not*_ dead. "He ordered me to retrieve help for Major Carter. I did not want to leave them, but complied. O’Neill remained. Both of us knew she would not survive. The only thing I could hope for was to obtain assistance for O’Neill and recover Major Carter and Daniel Jackson’s bodies. However, they are not dead. I must go back." 

His words hung in silence. General Hammond released his arm, backed up a few steps and gaped his mouth open and shut several times. Doctor Fraiser looked ready to vomit. Their physical reactions were precise representations of his own inner turmoil. 

"Are you certain?" the general finally managed. 

"Quite, General Hammond. Though I fear we may already be too late," Teal’c admitted. He could not wash away the image of his friends’ bodies, of O’Neill remaining behind. Shame at his failure filled him, but there was still a chance to redeem his error. "The longer we delay, the greater the risk to their lives." 

"Do you think you can make it to the briefing room?" General Hammond asked, waving a hand as Doctor Fraiser protested. 

"Sir, I don’t think that’s wise," the petite woman warned. 

"I can," Teal’c also ignored the doctor. 

"I’ll gather SG2. SG8 is the only other team not off world right now. I’ll have them join us as well. We’ll meet in half an hour," General Hammond grimly nodded and left the infirmary. 

Teal’c would be more than ready. His friends’ lives depended on him, he was certain. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Having no foreknowledge of the aliens holding them captive, Daniel’s first impression of the beasts was one of amused disgust. Neither Jack nor Sam had provided him with a good description, just that they were animalistic and uncouth. As ten of them entered the holding area, Daniel noted both of those adjectives were patent understatements. Through the already pungent air and from a fair distance, he could still smell the giant things staggering right toward their cell. His nose crinkled reflexively. They towered at least a foot over his height and were far wider. Ugly snarls formed under their large, piggish noses. Daniel crazily wondered if SG1 had ‘gated straight to Animal Farm, and he nearly laughed out loud. Something told him that would not be a good idea. Something like seven feet of raunchy-smelling bulk, times ten. 

Each step forward their captors took provoked Jack’s arm around him to tighten correspondingly. He tried not to flinch from the cramps nailing into every muscle, not wanting to alarm his friends or demonstrate any sign of weakness. Sam seemed frozen on the spot, a few feet in front of him and Jack. Her eyes flitted back and forth from the Pigs to them, uncharacteristically panicked. The caged animals suddenly silenced as the Pigs stalked up and down the narrow aisle of the prison – meat locker was more like it – apparently deciding which delicacy was next on the menu. 

Daniel held his breath as they stopped in front of their cage. Jack’s hold squeezed even more, the only sign of the older man’s alarm. Risking a hurried look to Jack’s face, he was not reassured to see the classic impassive expression. That mask could not hide the anger, fear and near hopelessness pouring from his friend’s eyes, at least not from him. Daniel shivered and looked down to the floor, scared beyond reason.. 

"Carter, maybe you should come over here," Jack whispered, breaking the hush and startling a jerk out of Daniel. 

"Yes, sir," Sam concurred immediately. 

Raising his head, Daniel saw her scuttle to them just as the Pigs opened the door of the cage. Sam moved to his free side and wrapped her arm around his waist. He momentarily felt foolish and inadequate that his friends thought he needed extra support, then realized they were taking this stance for themselves as much as for him. He hoped the old adage of safety in numbers was accurate. And really hoped the creatures were too dumb to realize how he was the most vulnerable. 

The Pigs grunted as they entered the enclosure and started circling the trio. Daniel watched, attempting to keep his observations disguised. They really didn’t need any additional attention directed to them, but his curiosity was bounding. He studied them carefully, thinking back to Jack and Sam’s adamant belief negotiation was not an option. The Pigs actually, surprisingly didn’t look unintelligent, and Daniel sensed their grunts might be a form of rudimentary communication. Scrunching his eyes in concentration, he was startled when an orange face suddenly thrust itself inches from his own. Automatically recoiling, Daniel’s unprepared legs gave out on him. 

"Daniel!" Jack murmured, hands fumbling along his bare torso and shoulders as he descended. 

Hitting the ground on his knees, Daniel groaned. Jack and Sam both leaned down to help him regain his footing, whispering indiscernible reassurances. Intensely grateful for their help, Daniel lurched to his feet and swayed a bit. Before he could fully acclimate to being vertical, the Pigs breached the protective circle he, Jack and Sam had created, yanking both his friends away. The world tilted once again, pitching him forward ungainly. His fall was halted as a beefy hand grabbed him by the hair, coercing a yelp of surprised pain from his throat. 

"Damnit, take it ea-" Jack growled, voice cutting off mid word. 

Daniel lifted his head to show the older man he was fine, dismayed to find Jack and Sam held in deadlocks. Jack’s face was crimson with rage as he fought the restraining arms, eyes wildly transferring from him, to Sam and then to the Pigs. A rapid glance to Sam revealed the aliens were callously examining her. Hadn’t they seen enough when they were stripping and cleaning? 

Rough hands twisted his arms behind his back and another set secured his jaw, jerking his head to the left so he could no longer see Jack or Sam. Fingers pinched his cheeks and forced his mouth open. Gurgling in objection, Daniel squirmed as a Pig ran its hands along the length of his body, pausing on his sternum. Dread built in him as a leering face made eye contact and then purposefully looked down to his chest. 

He knew what was coming but could not have prepared for the onslaught of pain when a fat hand pressed brutally into his bruised chest. Stars burst in front of him, replacing his view of that ugly face. Everything blurred for a couple of seconds, and Daniel knew he was on the verge of passing out. Abruptly, the hand holding his mouth open let go and he raggedly gasped, determined not to betray the depth of agony their abuse caused by screaming. It took all his energy to sublimate the violent misery branding him, and he glared fiercely at the Pigs. In response, they started emitting strange, chilling noises. He shrunk away from it, wishing he could cover his ears. He realized what the sounds were. 

Laughter. They were laughing at his distress. 

Definite level of intelligence there, maybe he should try to figure out their language. Wait. Laughing. He wondered if they had ascertained he, Jack and Sam were sentient as they. Oh, God, if they had and still intended… Daniel’s stomach flopped as he thought the Pigs might have more in store for them than dinner. They seemed to be taking perverse pleasure in his reactions. God, what if they liked to play with their food first? He shook his head, rattled by the sick thought. Behind the disconcerting chuckles, Daniel could hear Sam trying to restrain her protests of her own mistreatment and of his and Jack’s. Jack. 

Straining his ears, he searched for sounds from the older man. Barely audible and muffled, Daniel finally got a line. Jack was gasping and moaning in pain. A flash of the colonel’s bruised ribs appeared before him, a spasm from his own chest rocketing him to the realization Jack was probably being as mishandled as he. He was thankful Sam hadn’t been hurt before. Not that her experience seemed that much better, from what he could hear. 

He couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore. Daniel had to know if his friends were all right, had to hear something besides sounds of suffering from them. Sucking in as deep of a breath as he could muster, he began, "Jack? Sam? You o-" 

A sharp jab to his sternum stole the words, transforming them instead into an uncontrolled scream. His head was swiveled back toward Jack and Sam, and he saw them through the tears springing unbidden into his eyes. Stupid. He shouldn’t have done that. Daniel fought to take tiny, frantic breaths and tried to tamp down the pain. 

"Daniel!" Jack and Sam called out simultaneously. Each received a backhanded slap to silence them. 

"N-" Daniel argued, unable to speak. His head reeled and nausea burbled in his stomach. 

"Gawr. Reckment potou nimptar soug," the nearest Pig growled, authoritatively pointing at him. 

The hands viciously gripped Daniel’s arms and started carting him to the door. He dug his heels stubbornly into the hard ground, but the Pigs were too big, and he was too weak from the earlier assaults. Fighting to focus on Jack and Sam, Daniel strove to eliminate the tears from his eyes and let them know he was okay.

But he wasn’t okay, and their horrified expressions spoke comprehension of his fate. Gray fuzz slunk into the edges of his vision, forming a narrow tunnel through which he saw Jack still battling to free himself. The Pigs, apparently irritated by the disruption, delivered a massive blow to the older man’s already bruised ribcage. He moaned, eyes rolling back. They released the colonel and Jack collapsed soundlessly to the ground. 

Sam was let go seconds later and she rushed to Jack’s side, but her face was drawn Daniel’s direction. The rest of the Pigs exited the cage, blocking Daniel’s already foggy view of her for a few moments. When he finally got a clear one, Sam’s expression was one of desperation, blue eyes enormous. Daniel centered on her, stemming his own panic to try to reassure her. He managed to give her a nod before he was dragged out of the prison with appalling finality. Sam’s voice screamed his name over and over again, until the door slammed shut, and he was cut off from his friends completely. 

Daniel’s struggles ceased the instant the door closed, as though a switch had been thrown. Numbness settled over him, dulling the throbs of his chest to a more bearable level. Dulling his mind from thinking too heavily about what was about to happen. He sagged apathetically against the Pigs carrying him, unmindful of his surroundings. With a mental snort, he remembered it hadn’t even been a day since he’d been excited at the prospect of meeting the indigenous people of this world and learning about their culture. Now he was going to get hands on experience, and he wanted nothing but to avoid it. 

Snagging himself out of the stupor, Daniel tried to memorize the path the Pigs were taking him. He knew it was probably a futile maneuver, but if Teal’c was on his way, it could only help if he could help guide them through the fortress. The walls were constructed of large stones and some kind of coarse, crumbling mortar. Dimness seemed to pervade the inner rooms, the only light being provided by small torches spaced about ten feet apart, at shoulder height. Other than the flames, he couldn’t delineate any unique markers. 

His heart rate increased and his stomach churned as the Pigs slowed their pace. Slightly brighter light greeted him, as did intensely worse smells and louder sounds. The tunnels led into a great hall area. Gagging as the odor of sweat and rotten meat assailed him, he tried to bury his nose in his shoulder. The hall was filled with a countless number of Pigs, and all of them began roaring when they saw him. He shuddered. 

The procession, though, didn’t stop in the hall but continued onto a darkened passage on the far side of it. He had no idea if he should be relived or not as they finally stopped before a windowless, black wooden door. Daniel spotted a thin slot about halfway down, littered with scraps of moldy and rotting food. Gagging as the foul stench assailed his nostrils, he hunched over. Pain flared in his chest again, and he struggled to breathe past it. 

The Pigs let go their grip on one of his arms briefly, propelling him dizzyingly in a circle and switching their hold to the front. They wrenched his arms roughly above his head, one of them blocking his eyes with its biceps. Daniel heard a metallic grazing noise, barely a whisper above his harsh breaths, which he then promptly held. It sounded ominously like a knife being removed from its sheath. 

Before he could even react, the Pig drew back its arm and Daniel saw only the downward arc of a knife heading straight for his chest. 

~~~~~~~ 

"Daniel! Let him go! Daniel, * _Daniel_ *!" Sam screamed, her throat threatening to rupture from the abuse. 

Military stoicism had given out long ago; the instant the pig things latched onto her, she had demonstrated nothing if not emotional reaction. She knew she shouldn’t have been so free with her distress, but seeing the colonel’s face cave to reveal his disgust had relaxed her own sensibilities. Sam couldn’t stop the memories of the Pigs stripping and washing her when she had been completely helpless to stop them. She wasn’t so helpless this time, but she felt just as violated. 

Selfishly, she was glad they hadn’t attempted to physically harm her. Daniel’s involuntary screams as they cruelly agitated his already terribly bruised sternum still reverberated through her skull. So did the colonel’s swallowed moans of pain from the force of the blows to his ribs. God, they’d taken Daniel, and the colonel was unconscious. Sam couldn’t squelch the panic welling inside and she could feel the glue keeping her together dissolving. They were going to eat Daniel. Eat. She stopped trying to fight the tears for once in her life, allowing several to slide down her cheeks as she slouched next to the colonel. Eat Daniel and come back for them. She took the colonel’s hand, needing the physical contact to ground herself again. Daniel was * _not*_ going to die. They would find a way out of here, and he would be just fine. They all would be just fine. 

Sam consoled herself with the lies, clenching her CO tightly, like he was a human security blanket. He didn’t stir at all. Indulging herself wouldn’t help them; she knew she’d have to get a grip and get a grip soon. The last thing she wanted was for the colonel to wake up to a blithering, hysterical woman. It was bad enough he’d immediately note Daniel’s conspicuous absence. As if the action would expedite the resumption of her militaristic unemotional resolve, she straightened her shoulders and leaned over the unconscious man to survey the damage. She released his hand and tenderly probed the ugly bruising on his ribcage, finally gaining an auditory response. The same moans he had tried to keep down before now weakly and unconsciously slid from him. 

Wincing as she felt at least two ribs give a little, Sam determined they were at least cracked. She futilely searched the cage for something to bind them, but there was nothing, short of removing either parts of her clothes or all of the colonel’s. Which she was so not comfortable doing. He would have to endure the discomfort. Sam snorted with derision. Chances are he wouldn’t have too long to suffer. 

Negativity rapidly replaced the frenzied panic, and her mind kept wandering to Daniel. God, his face when they had heaved him out of the holding cell! True to form for this mission, it would be forever emblazoned in her memory, that mixture of absolute terror and calm reserve that was so Daniel. Forever, which would be over soon. She wondered if her missing friend was already dead. No, no. Couldn’t think like that, had to hold onto something anything. But how long would the Pigs take before killing him? She feared they’d torture him at great length, exacting some psychotic pleasure from it, extrapolating from their treatment so far. 

The colonel started rustling around beneath her hands, moans becoming more insistent. She immediately dispelled the useless, pessimistic thoughts and caught one of his hands between both of hers. Rubbing the cold fingers, Sam waited for him to return to awareness. 

"Come on, Colonel," she pleaded, suddenly overwhelmed by aloneness. The holding area reeked with silence, the remaining animals quivering in terrified huddles. Just like her and the colonel. "Time to wake up, here." 

His groans increased in pitch and volume, his head beginning to tip from left to right. Shifting one of her hands to his forehead, Sam stroked soothingly. He leaned into the embrace, eyelids fluttering. She studied his face carefully, bringing hers closer, until it was only inches away from his. The colonel started talking before he even opened his eyes. 

"Carter? Daniel?" 

"I’m right here, sir. Can you open your eyes?" Sam coaxed softly. 

"Mm…yeah," he groaned and parted first one eye, then the other. Blearily confused brown eyes peered up at her. Sam watched the confusion dissipate immediately, changing to wariness as he rapidly assessed her for injury. "You okay? Where’s Daniel?" 

Sam nodded at his first question but looked away from him at the second. She stared at the door for a few moments, trying to pull herself together enough to tell him what happened. When she looked back, his face had hardened with realization. Taking a deep breath, Sam choked, "They took him, sir. Right after you passed out. I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop them." 

"There was nothing you could have done, Carter. You know that, right?" the colonel whispered, pain flavoring his words. He tried to raise his shoulders off the ground, only getting a couple of inches when his face contorted and he slumped back down. "Any more than I could." 

"Yes, sir," she agreed half-heartedly. "I know that, but – " 

"No buts, Major. Look, let’s not talk about this like Daniel’s already dead. He’s not. And he won’t be." The colonel was amazingly strong in his conviction. "Not again." 

Sam found herself believing him. Daniel hadn’t been gone that long. There was still time to get out and stop this horrible thing from happening. She just wished she knew how they were going to manage it. The colonel was hurt enough to be debilitated, and the Pigs were just too damn big. Who knew how many of them there were? If they were being held in the fortress, it could be brimming with the beasts. It was difficult to not feel hopeless at their situation. If Teal’c had been able, he’d have been back for them long ago, she knew that. She rose to her feet abruptly and began pacing the cell with nervous energy. Something. There had to be something they could use. 

"Carter," the colonel murmured after a few minutes. "* _Sam*._ You’re making me dizzy. Come sit down. It won’t do you any good to expend all of your energy." 

"I know. You’re right, sir," Sam sighed as she plopped down next to him. "I just don’t like this. I don’t like not being able to do anything. And I’m freezing. The moving helped." 

"Ah, yes, know what you mean," the colonel acceded, fingering his loincloth. "I don’t care for the caveman look myself." 

Sam looked at him closely, noting his gooseflesh for the first time. She thought back to Antarctica, so long ago, and to how they’d had to keep warm. Not knowing for certain how he’d welcome the same method, especially with all the weirdness between them lately, she hesitated a bit before speaking. "Sir, if it gets too uncomfortable, you’ll let me know, right?" 

He snorted and shook his head, "Hell, do you think I’d pass up the chance to snuggle with my very own Barbarella? No way, it’s every man’s fantasy!" 

The comment threw her off balance. Barbarella? What did that mean? Sam knitted her brows and glared at him. Then the light bulb clicked on and she began to chuckle. She * _did*_ look like the famed cult classic heroine. Giving the colonel a good-natured slap on the arm, she enjoyed their lapse into vague normalcy. They needed this reprieve to keep their minds off more horrible things. 

Their respite did not last long. Only moments after relaxing into comfortable and comforting silence, the big door to the prison slammed open. Expecting the worst, Sam automatically tensed and reached for her CO’s arm. She squeezed it ruthlessly, bracing for another large entourage of Pigs, coming to collect the second course. Taken aback when only one entered, she gulped air as discreetly as she could. Now was not the time for panic to reclaim her. 

The Pig stomped right up to their cage with purposeful, almost haughty strides. It didn’t make a move to unlock the door, and Sam sagged a little with relief. Beneath her hand, she sensed the colonel becoming more anxious. Confused, she looked down at him. His eyes were averted to the Pig, but she could see the cold hardness in them. Following his gaze, she swung her attention back to the alien. Or rather, back to its left hand. What was that? It was clutching something dark. Cloth. 

Without a word, the Pig wiped its free hand across its mouth smacked its lips once and threw the rag into their cell. It slapped the ground loudly like it was wet. A belch filled the air, and then the Pig turned on its heel and left them. Sam waited for the door to close before she moved to examine the object. Crawling over to it, she stopped halfway to her destination. A barb of sick dread shot through her. She could tell what it was. Her heart started pounding incredibly fast, and her stomach gave out completely. Dry heaving, she turned back to the colonel. Her CO’s eyes were scrunched shut, a fist pounding into the floor. 

"Sir, it’s-" she started once she’d got the retching under control. She slid back to his side without a backward glance. 

"I know what it is, Sam," the colonel interrupted in a strangely detached tone. "I know." 

"Oh, God," Sam whispered. She couldn’t prevent herself from looking back at the cloth. It was almost hypnotically leading her back to it. "Oh, God." 

Lying not five feet from them, damning in its authenticity, was the loincloth they’d last seen Daniel wearing. 

Torn and saturated with blood. 

~~~~~~~~ 

General Hammond had sped through the briefing with bleak hastiness. For that, Teal’c was incredibly grateful. He understood the necessity of complete information but at the same time had had to restrain himself from running out of the briefing room and going through the Stargate alone. There was no time. It had been too long already. He alternately fisted and unfisted his right hand, his left firmly clasping his staff weapon as he watched the chevrons light. He could feel the readiness of his companions and, though he had not worked with the new leader of SG2, Teal’c was confident Major Griff would stop at nothing to rescue his friends. Both SG2 and SG8 were young teams and ready for anything. 

Finally, the wormhole billowed out and settled again into the confines of the Stargate ring. Teal’c took a decisive step onto the ramp, ignoring the flares of muscle spasms still afflicting him. He could feel General Hammond’s intense stare boring into the back of his skull. He turned around to gaze up into the control room. As he suspected, the general was standing with fists clenched as tightly as his own, with Doctor Fraiser standing at his right side. She had not been convinced of his good health, only reluctantly granting him permission to leave the infirmary.

Leaning into to microphone, General Hammond called, "Bring them back." 

Teal’c bowed his head in response. He would do no less than the general commanded. He imparted his promise silently, pivoting around. Without further hesitation, Teal’c led SG2 and SG8 back to P7J 952. Back to his friends. 

Exiting the wormhole half the universe away from where he had entered it, Teal’c paused only long enough to ensure the other members of the SGC were behind him. He began walking with long strides in the direction he had last seen SG1. Running footsteps sounded behind him, a hand clasped his shoulder, ceasing his motion. Impatient, Teal’c turned to find a concerned Major Griff staring at him. 

"Uh, Teal’c. Do you have any inclination on what we can expect? You said you heard noises, but you didn’t stick around long enough to see anything?" the major questioned, eyes narrowed. 

Normally, Teal’c would appreciate the man’s skepticism. Today, however, he did not have time to indulge the insecurities the soldier displayed openly. He jerked from Major Griff’s grasp, stating calmly, "I did not see, but it is my belief there are intelligent inhabitants of this world. The proper place to begin the search is at the location where I left SG1." 

Major Griff looked appeased and slightly embarrassed. Teal’c was certain he knew where their investigation would take them but could tell the SG2 team leader would require suitable convincing. "There is good likelihood SG1 was taken to the fortress we came upon previously. There are no indications of other signs of habitation on this world. The UAV and MALP readings confirm this to be the case. It is my belief the structure houses the only sentient beings on P7J 952\. From the last known location of SG1, I can determine the direction in which we must travel. We are wasting time." 

Major Griff still looked reluctant, despite receiving an elbow from the leader of SG8, Major James. Teal’c glared at him and the other members of the rescue party as uncharacteristic annoyance crept into him. Barely hiding a snarl, Teal’c turned and started walking away. There was no time for this. He feared they might already be too late. 

"Okay," Major Griff grumbled. "We follow Teal’c then." 

They traveled the rest of the distance in sullen silence. Teal’c could focus only on one thing. It did not matter if the major didn’t appear to trust him. He was correct. His friends were contained in the fortress and they were alive. To think otherwise was unacceptable. He could not keep doubt from periodically creeping into him, but he could refuse to let it gain control. 

Teal’c visualized precisely where he had left his friends, slowing as they came upon the small clearing. He held up a hand, calling for his companions to cease movement while he assessed the area. Two slight imprints lay side by side, Daniel Jackson and Major Carter’s bodies. In between them, the earth was scraped in a pattern indicating someone was dragged some distance away. Ten, perhaps eleven sets of massive footprints scuffed the ground in a circular pattern. O’Neill’s smaller prints showed evidence of his struggle and his failure. He fell near to the same spot he had knelt. The large attackers departed, heading for the fortress. Three sets of indentations were deeper than the rest, telling him all of SG1 had been carried along. 

"It is this way," he simply said, and resumed walking. 

"I guess it’s to the castle," Major Griff said, apparently still unhappy with Teal’c taking charge. 

Teal’c could not concern himself with the soldier’s continued disgruntled friends. He walked in silence, knowing the SG teams would follow. As he approached the all too familiar stone wall and mud moat, his muscles quivered with tension. He waited for SG2 and SG8 to catch up with him, leaning his staff weapon on the fence and observing the large structure for motion from indigenous life forms. He could see nothing in the windows. 

With grace, he removed his daypack and began withdrawing the protective gear necessary to cross the dangerous muck. Efficiently pulling on the equipment, Teal’c kept his eyes pinned on the fortress. He searched for an obvious point of entry and worried their arrival would be easily detected. There was no cover at all for the half-mile expanse of mud. He cursed to himself and took out his binoculars, as he could not see clearly enough on his own. He scanned each window, pleased to see them barren. Perhaps they would be fortunate enough to have the aliens either sleeping or dining. 

Dining. That one word caused a sharp paroxysm to resonate through him, a horrible thought coming with it. The purpose of the mud was to paralyze its victims, but why? He thought it would be an expedient way for the aliens to obtain food sources. He shook his head and turned to Majors Griff and James. The soldiers were also surveying the structure. Major Griff had a frown plastered on his face, an expression Teal’c began to believe as permanent for him. 

"Looks empty. You sure this is where they are?" 

"I am." Teal’c bit back a less polite retort. He had been too long among humans, particularly O’Neill. "It is fortuitous the aliens are lax in their security. We should take advantage." 

To his relief, Major Griff put forth no more objections. Instead, the major turned to the other men and ordered, "Pierce, Coburn, you stay here in case we run into any trouble. If we’re not out of there in two hours, I want you to head back to the Stargate. Assume the worst, and do not send reinforcements." After both soldiers nodded, the major turned to Teal’c. "Ready?" 

"More than ready, Major Griff," Teal’c growled. He should not be allowing his fear and agitation to impact him so greatly. He pushed it down, focused on having Major Griff with him at last. 

"Let’s do it." 

Scaling the short wall, they crouched over and began to skulk toward the fortification. The sludge made running impossible, as did the cumbersome attire, facts that added to his frustrations. His inability to remain impartial, to perform his function, was extremely bothersome to him. Thankfully, the distance was short, and the trek went unnoticed by the aliens. Soon Teal’c found himself standing next to the outer wall. Up close, he determined the building was poorly constructed, the mortar crumbling and stones missing in numerous locations. His confidence grew that the apparent sloth of the aliens would assist them in rescuing his friends. It was not too late, it was not. 

"Whoa, what Bob Vila could do with this place," Sergeant Whitman of SG8 said under his breath. 

Teal’c did a double take toward the man. The comment was something O’Neill might have said, were he here. The colonel managed to make the direst of situations more bearable with his facetious repartee. He had grown quite used to that particular custom of O’Neill’s, though that particular truth would never be revealed publicly, and welcomed the surrogate with equal privacy. He offered the young soldier a slight nod of his head and continued on with his exploration for a viable entrance. 

"Sirs, over here," Lieutenant Fielding softly called from several meters away. 

The young, redheaded man was hunched over a wide gap in the wall, easily large enough to permit them access. The rest of the soldiers surged that direction, gathering at the opening. Major Griff once again resumed control. 

"Okay, Major James, you and your team head to the left. Teal’c, Fielding and I will go right. I don’t think I need to remind everyone stealth is of utmost importance. We don’t want to rouse the uglies, assuming they are. Ugly, I mean. Do * _not*_ get compromised. If your probe does not yield positive results in precisely one hour, you are to return here and wait for us. Radio contact only if SG1 is found or necessity dictates." 

Orders relayed, they silently slipped into the building. The passageway they entered was empty and dark. Quickly shedding the protective clothing and shoving it under some loose boulders dislodged from the breach in the wall, the teams split up. Teal’c had an inclination they needed to find a way to the interior of the structure, possibly even to the lower levels. It would seem probable if SG1 were being held, it would be in a dungeon area. Major Griff appeared to have the same idea. 

"All right. I may have seen too many B movies, but I think we need to start our search in the dungeon. Of course, I’m assuming there is a dungeon. Unless Hollywood is completely fake, that means we head in and down. Any objections?" the major muttered, pausing for a moment. "No? Good. Follow me." 

They took the straight hallway for about one hundred meters where it angled sharply to the right. There were no doorways marking the tunnel, merely sparsely spaced torches, some lit, some not. Clearly the inhabitants of the building did not often use this area. They continued down the hall, always coming to a right hand turn eventually. Teal’c noted the circular pattern in which they were traveling as they spiraled into the bowels of the castle. Each corner was coming closer than the one prior. He began to feel disheartened and hoped SG8 was faring better. The only good thing was they had not run into any unwanted company. 

Teal’c kept all of his senses on full alert for any sign of the enemy or of his friends. Finally, he began to hear movement behind the walls up ahead of them. He raised a warning hand to Major Griff and Lieutenant Fielding as they neared the next corner. The soldiers were aware of the noises, guns raised in readiness. Teal’c passed by them, signaling for them to wait as he verified what lay before them. 

Peeking his head around the corner, Teal’c saw three large beings lounging outside a big door. His eyebrows rose of their own volition. The aliens of P7J 952 resembled farm animals. Had they not been wearing clothing, he would have determined them to be pigs. They grunted amongst themselves, oblivious to his and SG2’s presence. Major Griff joined him to review the situation. 

The major scowled at the Pigs, then nodded to him, indicating his zatnikatel. Teal’c removed the weapon from its holster and took aim. The Pigs didn’t even have time to register his appearance as he stepped out into the open and fired three rapid shots. Each mark connected with its intended target, and he was gratified to see the Pigs fall to the ground. He moved freely to the door, roughly kicking one of the bodies out of his way. Lieutenant Fielding busily bound the aliens and with the help of Major Griff, piled them off to the side. Teal’c tested the door handle, willing it to be unlocked and to be the room where he would find his friends. To his relief, the door was indeed unbolted. 

With the major on one side and Lieutenant Fielding pressed closely behind him, Teal’c flung the door open. He launched himself into the room, weapon at the ready. A concise scrutiny revealed it to be empty of the Pigs, and a prison of sorts. Various animals littered several large cages. Teal’c’s hopes fell when he did not see what he was looking for, his friends. He turned a disappointed frown to Major Griff, who was standing next to him with his mouth wide open. 

"Teal’c? Is that…is that you?" a soft, shaky voice called from behind him. 

He recognized its owner immediately. How had he not seen her? Teal’c instantly spun around, seeking her out. Major Carter stood, hands wrapped around two bars, face the picture of misery and clothed only in rags, in the farthest pen. He ran over to her, giving half his attention to looking through the rest of the cages for O’Neill and Daniel Jackson. The young major released one of her hands, extending it out of the cage, seeking contact. He latched onto it without a thought, incredibly relieved to have found her alive. 

"Major Carter, it is good to see you well," Teal’c said and smiled. His relief turned sour when he saw her pale face and felt her hand tremble within his grasp. "Are you all right? Where are O’Neill and Daniel Jackson?" 

Her face crumpled and she raised her other hand. In it, Teal’c saw a bloodied cloth. His first thought was that she had some injury he could not yet detect. Then he realized what it truly was as Major Carter brokenly answered, "I…I think they might be dead, Teal’c." 

A blow to his primta could not have been more painful. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Jack couldn’t stop seeing the evidence of Daniel’s death. His eyes were closed and yet the image hung before him, taunting him with its veracity. It couldn’t be true, yet the proof lay in a sodden heap only a couple of feet away. He heard Carter keening to herself, repeating the same words over and over like a litany. He didn’t know if he’d ever seen her so visibly distressed. Not that he found fault in her reaction – he suddenly became aware that his hand was becoming quite sore from contacting the ground over and over again. 

Carter shuffled away from his side, toward the offensive object plaguing them both. She was gone only a few seconds, then back with him. Jack knew he had to open his eyes to face her, to help pull her out of the dismal place he himself was struggling to exit. Daniel was not dead. Daniel could * _not_ * be dead. He wouldn’t accept that so easily again, not after already believing his friend to be gone once on this mission already. No, the Pigs were being intentionally cruel, torturing them. To play into their games would only allow them the upper hand. 

Resolve back, Jack opened his eyes. Carter knelt next to him, her left hand wrapped around the bloody cloth. She stared at it with blank eyes, shivering. She appeared to be going into shock, something Jack couldn’t allow to happen. Not when the Pigs could come back at any second. If they saw her like this, they’d flock to her like pigeons to a statue. 

"Sam, look at me," Jack ordered, refusing to look at the loincloth she held. Fake or not, it was upsetting to see. That blood had to have come from somewhere, and while he had to believe Daniel was alive, it did not preclude the archaeologist from being hurt. As if in reply to his desolate thoughts, his now broken ribs stabbed him with pain. He struggled to hide his agony from his second in command. She didn’t respond to his order, so he repeated it more loudly, "Sam! Look at * _me*_."

At last, Carter shook her head and responded to his petition. She tore her eyes from the blood-spattered material in her hand and looked at him, her eyes alarmingly hollow. Still not speaking, she just kept shaking her head. Jack felt a chill run through him, almost as upset about her condition as he was about Daniel’s possible death. 

"Carter, I don’t think we should…count Daniel out. Remember how the Pigs seemed to take…enjoyment out of our reactions when they first came to…came to get him?" Jack fervently whispered, his breath hitching every so often in an unfortunate mimic of both Daniel and Carter’s halted speech. "I can’t believe…he’s really dead. They…have to be toying with us…trying to weaken us." 

"Why, sir? I just…I don’t think they have a reason for it," Carter stated fatalistically. 

"It was clearly meant to mock us, Carter. Think about it – why wouldn’t they just come for one of us after they were…through with Daniel? They made a big show out of this. Hell, I would swear the Pig was flaunting its power over us. Kind of reminded me of Maybourne, actually," Jack tried again, inwardly crossing his fingers he could convince Carter to believe him. "He’s not dead, Carter. I won’t believe it until I see it for myself. And even then, you can be…damn sure I’m getting a second opinion." 

Carter closed her eyes for a second, pondering his words. He willed her to grab onto the snippet of hope he was dangling in front of her. He * _needed*_ her to consider the possibility and become the major he was accustomed to. It was the only way they were going to be able to get out of here to prove him correct about Daniel. 

"I…I suppose you could be right, sir. But, God, look at this!" Carter raised her left hand angrily. "Even if he’s not dead, he’d have to have lost quite a lot of blood to soak this so completely. It’s…it’s still really wet." 

Jack was pleased he had got her talking and tried to look past the slight stutters. Her line of thought was exactly as his was – hopeful, yet hesitant. There was no doubt Daniel was in more trouble than them at this point, and that they had few options. With his ribs, Jack doubted he could get very far even if they did get lucky enough to escape. Nope, as much as he hated to put additional pressure on her, Carter was their best, their only hope. All he had to do was distract the Pigs long enough for her to get away. Surely, they’d come back for more food soon. If Carter and Daniel were correct in thinking the residents of this lovely, dank castle numbered in the thousands, one little archaeologist wasn’t going to go very far.

"Carter, how are you feeling? Has the paralysis all worn off?" Jack asked. 

"For the most part, sir. Still having twinges, but they’re bearable. Why?" she asked. 

"Can you run?" 

"I think so…why? What are you thinking?" Carter answered suspiciously. Her eyes narrowed, already leaping to conclusions. 

"I obviously am not going anywhere on my own, but I * _can*_ function well enough to lay down a distraction for you when they come – " 

"* _No_ *! Sir, I will not let you sacrifice yourself, which is precisely what you’d be doing. There were ten of them before, and there is no way they’d hold back if you angered them. Absolutely not," Carter argued vehemently. "I won’t be responsible for that." 

"You wouldn’t be, Carter," Jack assuaged. She had to see reason, for all of them. "I’d be the one responsible." 

"No, sir. Orders or not, I cannot watch them kill you. They would kill you, sir. I won’t." 

Carter’s eyes blazed furiously. Jack was both relieved to see her up and fighting and worried she wouldn’t agree with him. There wasn’t any other way. If the Pigs came and took her, he couldn’t just lie here. He was not going to watch both of his team members die again. 

"I know what you’re thinking, sir. Don’t. If they take me, they take me," Carter said with a near hysterical laugh. 

"Nice attitude, Carter," Jack grumbled, knowing she was correct but still unwilling to let another member of his team be taken. If the chance arose, he’d make sure to be the next to go. 

"I try. I have been studying the master for several years now." 

He knew what she was trying to do, and was grateful for the attempt at levity. 

"Ah, you are learning, young one," Jack intoned, a half-smile gracing his lips. 

Carter grinned at him, but the expression didn’t last long. She looked back down to the loincloth, and her smile automatically fractured. Jack’s already unenthusiastic lightheartedness depleted further. Were he honest with himself, he’d admit to not being wholly convinced Daniel was alive, a thought he just didn’t want to have festering in the back of his mind. Not ever again. 

"Yeah," Carter murmured. She raised her head and opened her mouth to speak again. 

Before she could even begin forming the words, the prison door jarred open. Jack arched his neck to glare at the Pigs as they returned in full force. This time they did not even pretend to deliberate on which cage they were going to choose, stamping directly over to him and Carter. Without hesitation, three of them entered, yanked Carter to her feet and pulled her away from him. They pointed to the bloody cloth in her hand as it flailed around, snorting with apparent delight. 

"Colonel!" Carter cried, trying to wrest herself free. 

Jack shook his head at her, mutely telling her to stop fighting. Carter stopped shouting but kept fighting for a few moments until gradually realizing it was doing no good. Two more Pigs hunkered next to him, sneering. He gave them his best ‘I don’t give a shit’ look and tensed for the physical abuse he knew was coming. 

The Pigs violently scooped him to his feet. Pain scored, rippling out from his ribcage. Blackness swirled the boundaries of his vision, but he attempted to keep his attention on Carter’s anguished face. She blurred a couple of times, settled into a crisp image he’d not soon forget and then disappeared as nothingness claimed him once again. 

~~~~~~~~ 

It was so cold. 

Daniel couldn’t seem to get warmth back into his body, no matter how briskly he rubbed his arms and legs. At first he had tried pacing his new cell, only to discover it was very small – only ten feet long and about a bare five feet wide. He counted it a blessing he hadn’t cracked his skull open on the low ceiling, having enough intuition to lead with his hands. Jack would have been happy to see that. After a minute of the hunched over position, he had gingerly sat down on the cold stone floor, and there he stayed. 

He lay down on the ground, knees curled as tightly to his chest as his injury would allow. In total darkness, he was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic. Time had literally no meaning for him. As far as Daniel was concerned, he’d been alone for hours. Then again, it might have been only fifteen minutes. There was no way for him to tell, nothing to keep his mind from wandering, and extrapolating possible reasons for his new confinement. He knew. He knew what was going to happen to him eventually, but he couldn’t think of a decent reason for the wait. 

The fact the Pigs had stripped him naked after issuing a multitude of shallow cuts across his arms, stomach and back clued him in to the fact that wherever his negligible clothing had gone, it was not there for an altruistic purpose. Daniel could only imagine what they’d done with it after wiping his fresh bloody wounds with it – the most likely and horrifying was for them to show it to Jack and Sam. God, they’d think he was already dead. 

Daniel shivered uncontrollably, listening to his own slightly panicky breathing. Each lungful of air he took shot arrows of pain through his entire body, a discomfort he’d gotten startlingly used to. He found if he took thin enough breaths, he could avoid the relentless seizures that had wracked through him before. The Pigs had launched him into the cell so viciously that he hadn’t been able to really prepare himself. He’d smacked into the wall with great force, and he was pretty sure he heard * _something*_ snap in his chest. It had taken him a terrifyingly long time to calm down enough to comprehend he actually could still breathe, as the air had also rushed from his lungs. 

Now he had managed to settle into a kind of pattern, alternating his fierce shivers with small inhalations. The routine took a lot of his concentration, for which he was thankful. The only other thing he could do was wait. Wait to hopefully find out the fates of Jack and Sam. Wait for rescue or for death. So Daniel tried to meditate, tapping into inner reserves for calmness. Teal’c seemed to reap the benefits of a similar practice, and he was happy to discover meditation was helping. The cold-induced shudders subsided considerably as his meditation deepened. The level of relaxation he reached also eased his troubled breathing. 

He remained prone, so relaxed he was only very peripherally aware of foreign noises reaching his ears but he could not discern its point of origin. Nor could he seem to pull himself fully awake, the cold creeping into his mind as well as his body. As the door unbolted, Daniel began to shake his head back and forth, the meaning of the sounds finally registering in his brain. Oh, God. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit to himself that he was frightened out of his mind right now, and he wouldn’t be embarrassed to tell that to anyone at all if only he’d make it out of this alive. But that wasn’t going to happen. 

It was time. 

He put his hands on the ground, preparing to raise himself up. His limbs were unresponsive, flopping about as much as they had when he’d first come out of the paralysis. A startled moan stuck in his throat, and he stared in horror at the inky blackness encompassing him, looking toward where he thought the door was. He’d let himself get too complacent, the darkness confused his bearings. Abrupt and cold white light filled his vision, and his body reflexively started working. Daniel sat up, flinging his arms over his eyes with a sharp cry. The action made him gasp in pain and double over. He jerked his hands down, wrapping his arms gently around his chest. 

Squinting back up at the gleaming light, Daniel’s fear mounted. The doorway remained empty, looking chillingly like the light at the end of the tunnel people claimed to have seen after near death experiences. He choked down a chortle, knowing it would only cause agony. Why weren’t the Pigs coming in? It didn’t make any sense. He was about to open his mouth and call out in question when he heard the Pigs grunting and an object being tossed into the small room. The door promptly slammed shut, cutting off the blinding light. He listened for the only clue as to what had joined him, but his raspy breathing blocked everything else out. Red blooms burst through the darkness, the only remnants of the bitter, momentary brightness. 

He ignored the pain now running rampant through his body, crawling on hands and knees to seek out what he hoped was his new companion and not something…worse. Groping hands contacted something long, soft and relatively smooth. It was cool to the touch, but Daniel could sense core warmth. An arm. A human arm. This had to be Jack or Sam. He probed further, coming across the person’s bare torso. An agonized groan sounded at his ungentle, exploratory fingers. The hair was a dead giveaway. His cellmate was definitely Jack, and from the sound of his lungs, the older man had sustained more injuries since Daniel had last seen him. Or perhaps had his existing wounds compounded. 

Despite the concern for his friend, Daniel was glad to know Jack was alive. He guided his hands more tenderly to the older man’s head, trying not to poke Jack with his questing touches. Finally reaching Jack’s face, he cupped it between his hands and gave it a tiny jiggle. 

"Jack! Jack, wake up!" he called, worry blistering through him. He shivered. 

There was no response, aside from increased moaning. He knew he should just let the other man wake up gradually, but he was getting really nervous at his friend’s continued obliviousness. That, and the extreme sensory deprivation was getting to him. Just to hear Jack say something would calm him tremendously. Without light, Daniel also needed Jack awake to tell him how bad the injuries were. He thought perhaps Jack had received a blow to the head, making it all the more important to rouse his friend. 

"Jack, please!" Daniel coaxed again, adding a moderate slap to the colonel’s cheek. 

"Mmph." 

"Well, that’s a start," he muttered under his breath. A few more slaps would bring Jack all the way around. Daniel didn’t hesitate to deliver them. 

"Wha…what? I’m up," Jack growled, a hand whipping toward Daniel’s, smacking it away. "God…damn Pigs. Get…your hands?…hands off me!" 

Yep, Jack was back all right. Daniel smiled in the darkness. 

"Jack, it’s…just me." 

There was a long pause. 

"D…Daniel?" Jack finally asked incredulously. 

"Yeah," Daniel confirmed. "You okay?" 

"I think so. No. Uh, uh, Daniel?" 

Just that quickly, his relief abandoned him for fear yet again. A huge lump in this throat made speaking difficult. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear the bad news Jack was about to reveal. 

"I can’t see," Jack admitted. 

Oh, God. Oh, he was an idiot! 

"Oh, God! I’m…sorry," Daniel apologized hastily, then explained, " We’re in…solitary confinement. Well, it…was until you… It’s just dark, Jack." 

Jack shifted, grunting in pain immediately. Daniel reached out to find the older man’s arm, clasping it firmly. He hoped the contact would help Jack make the adjustment to the dark better. He wanted to ask his friend about Sam, about what happened after he’d been taken but wasn’t sure if Jack really wanted to talk. They sat in silence for a short while, simply taking comfort in the knowledge they were each alive. Daniel had to believe Sam was, too. 

"Jack?" 

"Daniel – "

They spoke simultaneously. Pausing, Daniel waited for his friend to take the lead. Jack gave a weary sounding sigh before he started speaking again, "God, Daniel. Thought…you were dead again. One of these…days, you’ll be the death of * _me*_." 

Daniel heard the relief echoing in Jack’s voice, despite the sarcasm. He was angry that he had, albeit not of his own volition, caused his friend pain. More than the physical injuries Jack sustained, he knew the emotional hurt had to be worse. And it hurt him to know Jack and Sam had been emotionally and psychologically tortured, especially when there was no good reason for it. Pure sadism. He suddenly felt he had to reassure Jack of his presence. He gave the older man’s arm another brief squeeze. 

"But I’m…not dead." 

"No," Jack breathed. "What…happened?" 

"You have to ask? They brought me…here," Daniel rushed out, not really wanting to discuss the unpleasant details. "What happened…with you guys?" 

His chest snagged, and Daniel was unable to prevent a hiss of pain. Jack went absolutely still beneath his fingers. A long silence impregnated the air, their combined raspy breathing more telling than words. They were both far too abused. Jack finally nonchalantly asked, "They brought you…here? That’s it? Daniel." 

Even though he couldn’t see Jack, Daniel knew the other man was glaring at him for understating the story. And even though Jack couldn’t see * _him_ *, he automatically adopted a sheepish look. He figured the only way to get the truth about Jack’s injuries was to first confess his own. 

"Fine. I’m fine, Jack. They just gave me a…couple of papercuts…and tossed…me in here." 

"Papercuts? Huh. And I suppose that’s why you still…ergh," Jack groaned as he changed positions, "can’t talk without…sounding like you’ve just…run the Boston Marathon?" 

By the time the older man had finished, he was panting. Daniel shook his head and wryly commented, "Oh, and you’re…doing so much better!" 

"Good…point," was all Jack deigned to say. 

"Jack," Daniel prodded. 

"Ribs are now…officially busted. I’ve had…worse." 

Funny how Jack was so quick to call Daniel on understating things, yet here he was downplaying himself. 

"Right," Daniel murmured. Actually, he was positive Jack was telling the truth about having worse injuries, but that didn’t mean his current ones should be brushed aside as unimportant. He chose to follow Jack’s lead, putting the issue to the back of his mind. "Um, what about Sam? Is she still…" 

"I think she’s…okay, Daniel. When the Pig…brought your…" Jack stopped. "She didn’t take…it well. Thinking you were…dead again, I mean." 

"God." Daniel moaned quietly and shut his eyes. "She’s all…alone now." 

"I know. But this is…Carter we’re talking about. She’ll be fine. We’ll bust out of here…and go get her." 

At that, Daniel snorted. He knew Jack was just trying to be positive, but it was so ludicrous in this situation he couldn’t help but refute it with one word. 

"Jack." 

"I know, I know," Jack whispered back. "God, it’s cold in here." 

Daniel shivered as his body lost the adrenaline rush and cold attacked him again. The cuts the Pigs inflicted pulled when he wrapped his arms around his chest to trap what heat he could. Teeth now chattering in earnest, he couldn’t answer Jack. Why was it so cold all of a sudden? It seemed worse than before. 

"Daniel? You…okay? How many…times did the Pigs cut you?" 

Pushing the chill aside, Daniel managed to stammer, "About ten. The cuts are…shallow, t-though." 

"Shit. We’re gonna have to…try to stay warm. Don’t suppose they…furnished a blanket or two?" 

Jack’s teeth also started rattling as he spoke. They were probably both going into shock. 

"I-I tried…pacing. The room’s too…small." 

"We’ll have to use…body heat." 

"Oh," Daniel mumbled but didn’t move. 

"Move to my left…side, will ya? This is…not a big deal…Daniel," Jack snapped irritably at his lack of movement. "Get your ass…over here before you…freeze it off." 

Daniel wondered how to go about telling Jack just how unmistakably naked he was. Absolute blackness notwithstanding, he doubted very much Jack would advocate snuggling with an in-the-buff archaeologist. He still didn’t move. 

"Uh, Jack?" 

"What?" 

"I’m, uh, I’m…you remember the Pigs…making you think I was…" Daniel trailed off, incredibly embarrassed. Jack didn’t say anything, but Daniel swore he could hear the older man thinking. "You know what they used to, uh…" 

"Oh…oh! Are you saying…you mean you’re…?" Jack trailed off too, leaving a blank at the end of his question. 

"As the day I was born," Daniel filled in for him. 

"Oh. My." 

~~~~~~~~ 

"I…I think they might be dead, Teal’c," Sam heard herself say. 

Dead. 

She was feeling so much all at once; she wasn’t sure she could say any more. Overwhelming relief at Teal’c’s appearance knocked her desperate fear for the colonel and Daniel down a notch, but it immediately flowed back to take its dominant place. She felt like one of those wave machines, emotions fluctuating steadily and rhythmically. But what was going on inside her was far from beautifully hypnotic. It was nauseating and out of control. Teal’c’s grip on her hand strengthened, his faced tightening to a rigid mask. He looked uncertain, an unfamiliar look of doubt flashing in his eyes. It was quickly replaced by determination. She was not alone, then, in this terrible fluctuation of emotion. 

"That cannot be, Major Carter. We will find them alive," he assured her stolidly. 

Beyond Teal’c, she saw Major Griff of SG2 and some other wet behind the ears soldier. Sam didn’t recognize him; she figured he must be quite new. She only knew Griff because she’d run into him a few times in the halls. Good soldier, could work on his people skills. And his manners. Griff was gaping at her like she was the last woman on Earth, and he was the last man. Of course, that was probably because she was half naked. 

Sam let Teal’c’s hand go, blanketing her arms around her bare midriff instead. Daniel’s stiff, brown- stained loincloth rubbed against her skin, and she dropped it like it was on fire. Oh, God. Teal’c said Daniel and the colonel were alive, but he couldn’t know that. He hadn’t seen them. Both of them had been gone so long. A soft touch to her shoulder from behind made her spin, a shriek escaping her lips before she could stop it. 

Teal’c. How had he got on her side of the bars? Dazed, Sam looked to the door to see it swinging open, smoke wafting from the lock. She was so out of it; had to pull herself together. Not liking the hysteria she’d succumbed to too often on this mission, she straightened her shoulders just as Teal’c draped his jacket over them. She blinked her gratitude, feeling warmth already returning. 

"Major Carter, are you well?" Teal’c asked her again. Major Griff and the nameless, red haired soldier simply continued staring. 

"No," Sam replied honestly. "But I think I will be." 

She gave Teal’c a wan smile, slipping her arms into his jacket and zipping it up all the way to the top. Major Griff took a step in her direction, warily keeping one eye trained on the open door of the prison. He bent over and picked up Daniel’s former clothing. Fingering the material, he raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Whose was this?" 

Sam swallowed and looked away. She backed up a step, right into Teal’c’s broad chest. Its resounding solidity helped calm nerves threatening to fray again. Inhaling a huge mouthful of air, she answered, "D-Daniel’s. They came in and t-took him. Then they brought that back and took the colonel." 

"Christ," the redhead cursed. 

"How long have they been gone, Major Carter?" Teal’c pressed, keeping his stance at her back and adding a hand to her shoulder. 

Twisting her neck to look at him, Sam found hope in his eyes. She knew he would never leave this place until Daniel and the colonel were found. Dead or alive. 

"I’m not sure. An hour. Maybe an hour and a half. Too long." 

"They may yet be alive," Teal’c stated again. Sam suspected he said it for his own benefit as well as hers. "We must endeavor to locate them. Are you able?" 

There was nothing she’d rather do. 

"Yes. Some muscle soreness, but nothing like…" 

"Major?" Griff prodded when she stopped. 

She’d forgotten both missing members of SG1 had substantial injuries. Not forgotten. Blocked out. Shit. "The colonel has broken ribs, possible internal bleeding. Daniel…Daniel has extensive bruising on his sternum, and what looks to be already significant blood loss. That’s just a guess, from the clothes." 

Sam spit out the information with regained military control. Her friends’ injuries might be bad, but they weren’t life threatening yet. Unless they weren’t found fast enough or unless, of course, they were already dead… 

"We have to find them soon. If they’re alive, they need medical attention." 

Major Griff was already on his radio, "Sierra Golf eight, this is Sierra Golf two. Over." 

"Sierra Golf eight. We read you. What’s the situation? Over," a tinny voice burst from the radios. 

"We’ve found Major Carter. Colonel O’Neill and Doctor Jackson are yet unaccounted for. Beginning secondary search now," Griff relayed softly. 

"Copy that. We’ve come across some sort of…dining hall. The creatures in it, and there are lots of them, seem to be asleep. It’s like they’ve just had their Thanksgiving dinner and the football games haven’t started yet. No sign of SG1, but there is a passage leading from the hall which looks to be filled with entrances to cells." 

"James, both O’Neill and Jackson require medical attention. We’ll join you there; we’re at a dead end. We’ve only got one hour before the rest of SG2 head back to the Stargate and our IDC codes are locked out." 

"Understood. Just follow the hallway, and it’ll bring you to us. Out." 

"Copy that. Out." 

Sam listened to the radio play tensely. She hoped with her whole being the colonel and Daniel were still in the cells SG8 had found and not in the stomachs of the slumbering Pigs. Her own stomach flopped. 

"You up for this, Major Carter?" Griff asked her again. 

She must really look like hell if people kept asking her that. Irritation swelled, but Sam nodded and took the zat Teal’c was proffering her. She started for the door, but the other younger soldier blocked it. Glaring at him, she was satisfied to see him wince, though he didn’t get out of her way. 

"Uh, sir. You’re barefoot." 

"So?" 

"You’re going to need something for your feet, sir," the soldier replied almost timidly. 

"I’ll be fine," Sam dismissed, though touched at his concern. 

"Lieutenant Fielding is correct, Major Carter. We must procure footwear for you. Our retreat is likely to be hasty," Teal’c calmly intoned. Sam jumped as she realized the Jaffa had followed her to the door, keeping as close to her as he could without being on top of her. 

"Here," Fielding called out, leaning down and pulling off his boots. "I’ll steal some from our friends out there. Assuming their feet are anything like ours." 

Sam gratefully shoved her feet into the boots that were only a little too big for her. By the time she had the laces knotted, the lieutenant was back with his newly acquired shoes. His nose was crinkled with disgust at their smell, and he looked thankful he had socks on. If the situation were different, Sam might have laughed at his obvious disconcertment. As it was, she was just glad he’d volunteered to put the atrocious things on. 

"Thank you," Sam said. 

Fielding bobbed his head once, face turning as red as his hair. Major Griff brusquely brushed by them, heading for the door of the holding pen. He peered down the hallway, glared at the rousing Pigs and turned back to them. Apparently convinced their exit would go unnoticed, he waved the rest of them over. Sam was pleased that her muscles seemed to have lost most of their stiffness, probably adrenaline induced. Cringing as she walked by the trussed up Pigs, she quickly averted her eyes and looked to the left, down the dimly lit hallway. 

They stealthily jogged down it, Major Griff in the lead. Teal’c remained at her side, and Lieutenant Fielding took up the rear. Sam noted the passage seemed to spiral outward, and she found the design odd. Almost too intricate for the Pigs. She threw the irrelevant observations out of her head, concentrating instead on the ultimate goal – finding Daniel and the colonel. Alive. 

Each step she took forward brought her closer to that belief. Soon the possibility of her friends being alive outweighed the doubts. Buoyed by her newfound sense of optimism, Sam didn’t even realize they’d reached their destination until she almost plowed right into Major Griff. The leader of SG2 held up his left arm, and she came to a dead halt, becoming aware only upon stopping that she was breathing heavily. Maybe she wasn’t as recovered as she thought. She shook her head and tried to slow her breaths. 

The hallway ended rather abruptly with a huge set of doors. One was cracked open. Griff signaled his intention to enter the room, with the rest of them to follow carefully. Impatiently toying with her zat, Sam looked to Teal’c. Her friend appeared ready to launch himself right through the good major and down toward the cells SG8 had discovered. She seconded his silent sentiment. 

Entering the big room evoked a new and wonderful array of sights and smells. The mess hall easily seated five hundred and seemed to be filled to maximum capacity, making their silence even more imperative. Sam held her breath as the stench of rotting meat invaded her sinuses. It was so powerful, tears formed in her eyes. Behind that foul smell, she thought she detected something yeasty. Beer? The combination of alcohol and charred meat was stomach turning and she found herself almost thankful the colonel had been unconscious when he’d been taken. She hoped Daniel had been able to contain his nausea. Barely audible gagging from Lieutenant Fielding almost made her reflexively retch. The smell seemed to become more tolerable after only a few minutes, but she was certain it had already permeated her skin and hair. She now would welcome the decontamination they’d have to undergo. 

An arm waving at them from a darkened doorway almost exactly across from them caught everyone’s attention at once. Sergeant Whitman’s alert face followed, apparently being the appointed lookout. She couldn’t tell from his expression whether or not SG8 had good news for them. Careful not to disturb the multitude of sleeping Pigs, Sam tiptoed over to the soldier, Teal’c still at her side. She briefly thought they should find a way to ensure the aliens stayed out of it, just to ease the recov…rescue. What she wouldn’t give for a Goa’uld stun grenade. 

"What have you got?" Griff asked quietly. 

"Nothing so far, sir," the sergeant promptly reported. "The rooms do appear to be cells, but they’ve only hit half of them so far, starting from the far end." 

Sam glanced past the SGC officers, dismayed to find the hall of doors extremely long. Major James and the rest of SG8 were methodically opening what appeared to be food slots on each door, peeking in to view the occupants. 

"Okay, we’ll start from this end. You keep your watch," Griff directed, already moving to the first door on the right. 

"Yes, sir. Be careful. Some of the rooms contain something very loud," Whitman cautioned. 

"Noted. Fielding, you’re with me." 

She and Teal’c looked to the left. Teal’c took the first door, she the second. They progressively moved down, leap-frogging around each other. After the third pass, she noticed Teal’c had ceased moving. Her pulse sped up at the implication. 

"Teal’c?" Sam asked, almost scared to get his response. 

"I believe I have found O’Neill and Daniel Jackson," Teal’c announced. 

At his side in an instant, Sam was surprised to find Griff and Fielding had already joined them. Fielding was waving his arms at SG8, who subsequently ended their search and jogged toward the group gathered outside the cell her friends were in. Meanwhile, Teal’c had unbolted the door and propped it open just slightly. Aware that even the dim torchlight would hurt the colonel and Daniel’s eyes, Teal’c stood on the threshold. Sam tried to peer over his shoulder, confused when he suddenly backed up and shut the door again. 

"Teal’c?" she asked again, now truly scared to get his response. 

"You must not enter yet, Major Carter. Major Griff, please give me your jacket," Teal’c requested mysteriously. 

His face betrayed no emotion, not atypical for him, but Sam also couldn’t get a fix on his eyes. Her concern grew drastically. Major Griff looked argumentative but took off his vest and jacket. He handed the latter to Teal’c with a look that stated an explanation had better be forthcoming. Sam couldn’t take it. While the handoff was taking place, she sneaked past Teal’c, opened the door and gasped at the sight greeting her. 

Inside the small enclosure lay Colonel Jack O’Neill with a very, * _very*_ naked Doctor Daniel Jackson curled around him. Someone pulled her, open mouthed, away from the door and shut it gently. She was spun around, coming face to face with Teal’c. 

"Did I not inform you that you should not enter, Major Carter?" Teal’c chided, eyes now fully conveying relief and amusement. 

Sam could think of only one thing to say. 

"Oh. My." 

~~~~~~~~ 

Major Carter’s skin went from ghost white to rose pink in a matter of seconds. Her mouth gaped open, giving her the appearance of a stunned fish. Teal’c gave her an encouraging smile, fully conscious of what it must have been like for her to witness O’Neill and Daniel Jackson in what could only be described as a compromising position. Concern for his two friends within the cell did not lessen, but Teal’c enjoyed the moment of humor nonetheless. 

"What’s going on?" Major Griff butted his way closer to the door, reaching for the handle. "We need to get them out of there and out of here." 

Teal’c seized the major’s questing hand before it could reach its destination. While he found his friends’ situation amusing, he did not wish for them to experience public humiliation. Daniel Jackson would already be embarrassed enough to realize the condition in which he had been found. Only when he had his young friend suitably covered would Teal’c permit anyone else into the cell. He must do it quickly, so they could ascertain the physical conditions of O’Neill and the archaeologist, and begin their withdrawal from the building. Every minute they remained increased the chances of being detected. Good fortune could only last so long. 

"Please allow me a few moments, Major Griff. Daniel Jackson requires your jacket," Teal’c simply stated with an eyebrow lift. 

Comprehension dawned on the soldier’s face, and he backed away with raised hands, shooting Major Carter an amused look. She had gotten herself under control once again, the momentary shock gone and replaced with raw worry. From his quick look of their friends, Teal’c had easily discerned the deep bruising on O’Neill’s right side and the blood smeared across Daniel Jackson’s arms and torso. His levity vanished completely, and he cursed himself for his self-indulgence while two of his friends were obviously injured only steps away. 

Easing the door open only wide enough to grant him entrance, Teal’c slipped into the dark room and closed the door so only a crack of light filtered in. He needed only minimal lighting to make his way to O’Neill and Daniel Jackson’s sides. 

He saw immediately that O’Neill had awakened. His friend’s eyes were squinting his direction, and Teal’c could see they were filled with apprehension. He reasoned O’Neill must not recognize him. His suspicions were confirmed as O’Neill began to twist away, only to run into Daniel Jackson’s body. The archaeologist gave a weak moan at the jostling, and his eyes also opened a slit, shutting again when they came in contact with the light. 

"J-Jack?" 

Teal’c began to smile at the confused voice, and it broadened when he heard O’Neill’s whispered reply, "‘S’okay, Daniel. I won’t…let them-" 

"O’Neill, it is I," Teal’c quickly interrupted. 

"Teal’c?" His two friends called out together. 

Teal’c moved closer to them, purposely into the beam of dim light. O’Neill’s face bore a crooked, pain-filled grin and Daniel Jackson looked appropriately bewildered as they realized he was really in front of them. Practicality implemented itself within Teal’c as he assured them, "Yes. Major Carter, SG2 and SG8 are also here. We must act quickly. Are you able to move?" 

O’Neil furrowed his brows as if confused by the question, then realized Daniel Jackson was still huddled to him. He jerked his arms away the same instant the archaeologist bolted upright. The younger man emitted a choked cry of pain and clutched his chest. 

"Teal’c?" Major Carter’s alarmed voice sounded from outside. 

Teal’c hurriedly slid over to Daniel Jackson, gently grasped one of the archaeologist’s shoulders while draping Major Griff’s jacket loosely at the waist. He then took the other shoulder, calling, "It is all right for you to enter now, Major Carter." 

"Daniel?" O’Neill inquired from his position. 

Rubbing his scholarly friend’s shoulders, Teal’c surveyed the wounds across Daniel Jackson’s body. Various long but shallow slashes marked his arms and chest, and some snaked around to his back. He surmised their purpose was only to give the appearance of Daniel Jackson’s death to Major Carter and O’Neill, his mind flashing back to the bloodied loincloth. Unwittingly, Teal’c’s hands fisted in rage at the senseless act of cruelty. Daniel Jackson stiffened under his grip, and he unclenched his hands apologetically. His eyes caught sight of the ugly bruise on the archaeologist’s chest. The bruise he himself had given. Regret filled him. 

"I am sorry, Daniel Jackson." 

"S…sorry? I’m okay…I’m okay. Just…didn’t think," the young man gasped, barely loud enough for them to hear. 

Major Carter pushed past him to kneel in the narrow space between O’Neill and Daniel Jackson. She looked uncertain as to which man to assist first. Teal’c jutted his jaw toward O’Neill, and she instantly complied, leaning over the team leader. He turned back to Daniel Jackson, who had regained his breath at last. Frowning, he suddenly wondered how they would be able to maneuver out of the fortress. It was apparent neither injured man could move without considerable pain. 

"Major Griff, perhaps you should prepare something from the medical kit," Teal’c suggested and noted the soldier had already begun rummaging through his pack. Most of the medicine contained in the kit would likely render the men unconscious but should help both with the pain and shock. 

"No. None for me. You…know how I get…from that stuff," Daniel Jackson vehemently argued. "I’ll be fine without." 

"Daniel," O’Neill growled. 

"Daniel, please," Major Carter whispered, cringing as she looked at the bloody marks covering the young man. 

"Sam, Jack. I’m fine," the archaeologist asserted and moved his hands down to the jacket sleeves. With an embarrassed grimace, he tried to swivel the jacket to tie at his right side. 

Teal’c saw his difficulty and reached down to assist. He knotted the sleeves snugly at the young man’s back, then twisted the makeshift covering to the side. Daniel Jackson mumbled his thanks and started shifting around to rise to his feet. Teal’c wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders and eased him off the ground, not letting go until the younger man stopped swaying. Observing Daniel Jackson biting fiercely down on his lower lip to contain the pain, Teal’c almost called for the morphine. Stubborn blue eyes anticipated his concern and blazed into him. 

"I believe he does not require the medication, Major Carter," Teal’c stretched the truth, hoping he was making the correct decision. Daniel Jackson nodded but was already shaking from exertion and cold. "However, I do not believe we will be able to leave this place on foot." 

He turned away from Daniel Jackson to re-assess O’Neill’s state. Major Carter lightly felt along the right side of the colonel’s ribcage, eliciting a moan. He doubted O’Neill would be able to walk very far, if at all, and he even already he could sense Daniel Jackson was swaying again. Major Griff swiftly jabbed O’Neill with the syringe of Demoral, as if racing against another refusal of treatment. 

"Augh, you son of a-" O’Neill cursed, left hand slapping across his eyes. 

"You okay, Colonel?" Major Carter hesitantly asked.

"Shit. Never better," O’Neill ground out, eyes already beginning to lose focus. 

"You’re right, Teal’c. James, take Browning and try to find something we can cart these guys home on. There’s got to be something around here we can use. Meanwhile, get prepped to go." 

Major James nodded and left with his teammate in tow. Teal’c watched them make their exit, sending with them hopes of success. If all else failed, they could carry O’Neill and Daniel Jackson, but the mud outside posed a big problem. With protective gear on, their motions would be inhibited and neither of his friends could be considered insignificant in weight. He was not certain his human companions could make the three and a half kilometer trek to the Stargate as quickly as was needed to ensure the aliens did not have a chance to capture them all. 

Major Carter would also have to be carried across the mud expanse, and with more people occupied with their companions than guarding for attack, Teal’c was worried they would be unsuccessful in the rescue. Major Carter looked displeased, still kneeling next to a now thankfully unconscious O’Neill. Keeping one eye on Daniel Jackson, he crouched next to her. 

"Daniel Jackson and O’Neill will be well, Major Carter." 

"I know, Teal’c. I just wish we could get the hell out of here without hurting them even more." 

She looked pointedly at the archaeologist, who was still shivering and looked as though he could topple over at any moment. Teal’c silently agreed. O’Neill would not feel a thing, but that did not mean damage would not occur. He resolved to give Daniel Jackson a dose of pain medication as soon as they were far enough from the fortress. But first things first. They must get O’Neill and Daniel Jackson away from this cell and through a roomful of Pigs. 

Glancing at his unconscious friend, Teal’c declared, "I will help carry O’Neill." 

"Right. Fielding, Joyce, you’re on Doctor Jackson. I’ll give Teal’c a hand. Major Carter, will you be okay on your own?" Major Griff took over. 

Switching his gaze to the young woman, Teal’c was alarmed to see how pale she had become. His own muscles yet ached with remembered spasms and he knew she must be feeling the aftereffects of paralysis even more so. She weakly nodded her affirmation, but Teal’c was not totally convinced. He exchanged glances with Major Griff, whose lips were pursed with understanding. 

"Whitman can help her when we get up to him," the Marine muttered and locked his hands on O’Neill. "On three. One. Two. Three."

He and the major hoisted a limp O’Neill with relative ease, careful not to disturb his damaged ribs. They walked quickly to the door where Captain Joyce and Lieutenant Fielding already held Daniel Jackson. The younger man was obviously using great effort not to show his pain, sparking another flame of guilt in Teal’c. Major Carter trailed behind them. 

"Sierra Golf two, this is Sierra Golf eight. Over," the radio crackled. 

Major Griff fumbled for his switch. "We read. Over." 

"We have found viable means of transportation." 

"What’s your location?" 

"We’re at the front gate. Exit mess hall through doorway on the right from your present location. Protective gear not necessary." 

"On our way. Out." 

"Copy that. We’ll be waiting." 

Relieved they would soon be on their way, Teal’c allowed a small smile to Major Carter. She beamed back at him, looking ready to run through the room, despite her fatigue. Even Daniel Jackson appeared rejuvenated. The huddled entourage bustled to the dining hall, where Sergeant Whitman greeted them with a troubled look on his face. 

"Sirs, I think they might be waking up," the sergeant gritted out. 

"Then we must hurry," Teal’c responded. 

Sergeant Whitman dipped his head, turning to see Major Carter stumble slightly. He moved directly to her side, gliding an arm around her waist. She took the help with no protest, which told Teal’c how tired she truly was. They began crossing the sea of sleeping aliens, and Teal’c kept a wary eye on the Pigs at all times. Indeed, they did show signs of reviving. He heard a soft gasp from Daniel Jackson and ground his teeth in sympathetic reaction. 

Captain Joyce looked back at them worriedly, then turned toward Daniel Jackson again. The archaeologist was having a difficult time keeping his legs steady, tripping occasionally. He suddenly slipped from the grip of his companions, landing hard on his knees. Teal’c flinched when the younger man let out a louder moan. He promptly searched the room to ensure the Pigs did not hear the noise. 

Fortune abandoned them. Teal’c saw several of the Pigs shaking their heads and focusing on the small group. Before it could be prevented, they were on their feet, grunting loudly to their sleeping companions. 

"Shit!" Major Griff swore. "Run!" 

Amid loud grunts, they hustled toward the front gate. Teal’c spared one look behind them as they ran through the short corridor Major James had directed them to. The Pigs slowly lumbered toward them, unable to move at great speeds due to their extreme size. Perhaps luck was still with them. Even with their injured cargo, he was confident the aliens were not making headway in the chase. The hallway was becoming brighter and, he hoped it meant their destination was near. The Pigs started throwing loose rocks from the walls at them, and he heard Major Griff grunt as one contacted him. Their pace slowed only for a moment. 

Finally, they reached an open courtyard and saw Major James atop a mechanical wagon of some sort. Teal’c felt a flicker of surprise at the technology but did not take time to consider it further. The leader of SG8 already had the front gates open and was firing his zatnikatel at the Pigs chasing them. 

"You know how to drive that thing?" Major Griff screamed. 

"You better hope so!" Major James called back. "Get on!" 

Teal’c watched as Lieutenant Browning helped load Daniel Jackson, Captain Joyce and Lieutenant Fielding aboard. He allowed Sergeant Whitman and Major Carter to go next, then finally he, Major Griff and O’Neill were dragged on with little ceremony. The instant the door was shut, Major James had the vehicle moving. It had incredible speed, surprising him again. It would not be long before he and his friends bid farewell to P7J 952 forever, and he would never be happier to see a planet go. He turned to peer back at the Pigs, alarmed to see them climbing on board several more wagons, continuing the pursuit. 

Easing O’Neill down on the floor, Teal’c retrieved his zatnikatel from a weary Major Carter and took aim at the closest pursuer, aiming for the driver. Captain Joyce let go of Daniel Jackson and joined him. Together, they fired without restraint. Teal’c watched with great pleasure as their targets fell from their perches and the vehicles stopped. Rough shouting and grunts could be heard, the Pigs scrambling to regain pursuit. Teal’c was confident they could make it to the Stargate easily. 

They sped over the rough terrain, every bump drawing out a pained moan from Daniel Jackson. O’Neill stirred, speaking of awareness returning. Teal’c looked at both men grimly, a frown plaguing his face. He regretted not being able to provide sufficient aid but told himself it was only a matter of minutes now, and his friends would be in the SGC infirmary under Doctor Fraiser’s excellent care. He sagged against the side of the wagon, adrenaline fading. Major Carter knelt at O’Neill’s side, her gaze tripping from her commanding officer, to Daniel Jackson, then finally resting upon him. She smiled. 

Teal’c smiled back. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Sam basked in the benefits a shower and a decent night’s rest had provided. She suspected Janet’s forced fluid intake via IV also had a bit to do with it, but she felt almost back to normal. After they’d made their escape from the Pigs and landed on the ramp in the ‘gateroom, Sam’s memories were pretty dim. She did recall the embarrassment of showing a goodly amount of flesh to the SFs, though she had been relatively lucky in that regard. She’d had a jacket on, at least. Poor Daniel only had Major Griff’s jacket ala skirt covering his backside, and the colonel hadn’t really fared any better. Sam shook her head, very clearly remembering the colonel regaining consciousness, howling for some clothes, then bursting into laughter at Daniel’s condition and subsequent facial expression. Which, of course, only landed him a heap of pain and eventual unconsciousness. 

Rubbing her forehead, Sam sat and waited. Janet assured her the colonel and Daniel were going to be fine, but they hadn’t woken up yet. The nurses came by quite regularly to check on the sleeping men, always seeming disappointed to find their patients fully clothed. She had to bite back a grin each time, desperately holding back from disclosing how much she’d got to see of her friends on this mission. Daniel in particular. She could look at it semi calmly now, but it still rated an ‘Oh. My.’ in her mind’s eye. 

"Hi, Sam," Janet Fraiser’s voice carried over her shoulder. "Been here long?" 

"No, only about an hour," Sam replied cheerfully, still picturing the colonel and naked Daniel. "Are they going to wake up soon?" 

"Daniel should. I only gave him a mild dose of sedative and pain medication. Colonel O’Neill, however, will be out for quite a while," Janet assured her with a smile. 

Sam frowned at the reminder of how closely they had actually cut it. If they had not escaped when they had, she was sure the colonel wouldn’t have survived. Janet hadn’t confirmed that but had told her of his internal bleeding. Daniel, amazingly, really was fine. Tests had been run to ensure no damage had been done to his heart during the resuscitation attempt, and pronounced him only severely bruised and dehydrated. His cuts were only slightly infected from the dank and unclean condition of the cell but were already healing nicely. She and Teal’c still had muscle stiffness; Teal’c was meditating right now after sitting up with the rest of his team, all asleep. 

"They will be fine," Janet reiterated, apparently reading her expression. 

"I know. It’s just been a rough couple of days. For a while, I really thought they were dead," Sam admitted bleakly. 

"Not dead," a third voice slurred. "How many times do I have to tell you people?" 

Spinning her head the direction of the voice, Sam couldn’t contain her grin at Daniel’s face. Eyes still closed, he had a smile playing covertly at the corners of his mouth. Smartass. "Daniel!" 

"Hey to you, too, Sam." Daniel opened his eyes and blessed her with a full-fledged smile. "Doctor Fraiser." 

"Hey," Sam greeted him again. "Good morning." 

Janet skirted around Daniel’s bed to read the machines still hooked up to him. Looking pleased, the doctor toyed with the bedcoverings, pulling them tighter to Daniel as she asked, "How are you feeling, Daniel?" 

"I feel…good, actually," Daniel replied, sounding dumbfounded. 

"How good is good?" Janet drilled. 

"Good enough not to have to stay in the infirmary?" 

Some things never changed. Sam watched and listened to the exchange, amused by the wistfulness in Daniel’s tone and the implacability in Janet’s. She didn’t think the doctor would grant him his request. Janet never budged on that one. 

"Very well, Doctor Jackson. But there will be ground rules," Janet caved. Sam nearly fell off her chair in shock as the doctor moved over to check on the colonel’s vitals. 

"Oh, of course there will," Daniel replied under his breath. 

"Wow, Daniel! I’m impressed," Sam whispered so Janet wouldn’t hear her. 

"As am I, Daniel Jackson," Teal’c suddenly appeared behind her and boomed, destroying her attempt at stealth. 

"Teal’c! Shhh!" Sam hissed, jumping at his arrival and pointing at Janet, who was busily pretending not to be listening. 

"I apologize, Major Carter. I did not realize you wished to be unheard," Teal’c replied, lowering his volume. 

"It’s okay." Janet had ears like a bat anyway. "How are you doing?" 

"I am fully recovered from the experiences on P7J 952 and was coming here to learn of your, Daniel Jackson and O’Neill’s conditions." 

"The colonel’s still sleeping but will be fine. I’m feeling myself again – " 

"And I’m out of here," Daniel finished. 

"In other words, Daniel’s fine, too. Though I suspect we’re going to have to make sure he doesn’t overdo it for a while," Sam glared at the archaeologist, not surprised to see his face take on a completely disarming but fake innocent look. 

"Indeed," Teal’c agreed with a head nod. "General Hammond has requested I, along with SG2 and SG8, debrief him on the events of the rescue. He instructed me to tell you that you and Daniel Jackson will make your report tomorrow. If O’Neill is able, he will too." 

Sam raised her eyebrows at the delay, but she wasn’t going to argue about it. She stole a look at Daniel, whose face looked like she knew hers did – shocked. "I’m sure the colonel will be, Teal’c. Are you going to stay for a few minutes?" 

"I cannot, but I will be back, Major Carter." Teal’c looked regretful he had to leave them. "General Hammond wishes my report immediately. However, I did wish to take the opportunity to apologize to you and Daniel Jackson." 

"Apologize?" she and Daniel quizzically asked at the same time. 

"I am responsible for exposing you to the paralyzing agent, Major Carter," Teal’c explained. "For that I am sorry. Daniel Jackson, I also have caused you harm when I performed CPR on you unnecessarily. I am sorry." 

"Teal’c, there’s no way you could have known about the mud’s effects," Sam immediately let go his apology. 

"And there’s no way you could have known * _not_ *to give me CPR," Daniel chimed in, mirroring her words. "In fact, I think I’d be upset if you hadn’t tried to revive me, despite the, you know…pain." 

Teal’c merely bowed, not looking convinced in the least. Sam knew it would take him a while to give up the guilt. She was going to have pangs for quite a while. Every time Daniel moved and flinched tore at her but she realized ultimately she and Teal’c had had no choice. 

"You know, I’ve been thinking," Daniel broke the silence that had befallen them. 

"When? You’ve been asleep since we got back!" Sam incredulously interrupted, sounding far too much like the colonel for her own good. 

"Since I woke up," Daniel retorted. "What difference does it make? As I was about to say, I think the inhabitants of P7J 952 were at one point a fairly developed race. They definitely had a good start technologically, judging from that car thing we rode to the ‘gate." 

"You remember that?" Sam asked. * _She_ * barely remembered that. 

"I remember it all, Sam," Daniel said with a small shudder and wince. "I think somewhere along the line they became rather apathetic and lazy. My memory is a bit hazy, but I seem to recall the building was rather run down. Probably not having to work for their…food helped the civilization’s decline." 

Daniel could be right, but Sam failed to see the importance of his speculations. She was just glad they’d got away from the smelly brutes without serious harm. 

"Could be, Daniel. But we’ll likely never know for sure. I, for one, am not bothered by that fact." 

"No, I suppose not," Daniel conceded, face grimacing. 

His whole body seemed to pale as shivers visibly overtook him. Sam straightened her back in alarm, reliving her own memories right along with him. He was far from okay; she was far from okay. As soon as the colonel got a little better, she thought a group healing session was in order. Nothing big – maybe Chinese takeout at her house. 

"I will make mention of it to General Hammond. I am certain he will wish to hear more, Daniel Jackson," Teal’c stated, then bowed slightly at them and left the infirmary without another word. 

Sam watched him for a second and turned back to Daniel. Her friend was raising his bed to a higher angle, so he was more sitting then lying down. Expression unreadable, Daniel’s gaze was fixed on her. She found it a little disturbing. 

"What?" 

"Uh, Sam?" he began, cutting himself off and looking away. 

"What, Daniel?" Sam urged, concern building. "What is it? Should I get Janet?" 

"God, no!" Daniel cried, furtively looking at the petite doctor still standing at the colonel’s bed. He dipped his head, suddenly enthralled with his blanket. "This is…private." 

Suddenly, Sam had an idea of out what he was going to say. She blushed as the image of him and the colonel popped back into her head. Oh, this was awkward. 

"It’s okay, Daniel. I won’t tell anyone I saw you nak – " 

"Shh! Sam, please!" Daniel whispered fiercely. "Like it’s not bad enough I was brought here wearing someone else’s * _jacket*_ as my pants. If anyone else finds out about, you know, * _that*_ , I’ll never hear the end of it. Jack and Teal’c knowing will be torture as it is. Especially Jack." 

"Okay, okay. I wouldn’t anyway, Daniel. It’s really not a big deal. Not like I’ve never seen * _that*_ before." 

"Not my * _that_ *, though," Daniel moaned miserably, covering his face with one hand. 

"True," Sam agreed, keeping to herself that she’d not complain about the peep show. Not one bit. 

"Excuse me. Not that I’ve been eavesdropping or anything," Janet’s voiced drifted from over by the colonel. The doctor left the sleeping man’s side and joined them at Daniel’s bed. 

"Oh, God," Daniel groaned, turning a nice shade of red. 

"No, hear me out. I think I have an idea that will help both of you out," Janet conspiratorially said, motioning for Sam to come closer to Daniel’s bed. 

As Janet began speaking, Sam’s face lit up with a huge smile. Daniel’s outshined hers. Bonding over Chinese takeout had nothing on this idea. 

~~~~~~~~ 

Jack remembered very little of their rushed retreat off of P7J 952, a fact which really did not bother him. Though he would not ever, * _ever*_ mention it when the doc was around, his ribs still ached a bit. She would only ‘tsk’ and comment on it being his own fault. He had, after all, been such a pain in the ass to her and the nurses that she’d broken down and released him from the infirmary in only a week. 

It had seemed fair to Jack – he’d done his time. Everyone else only had had to endure an overnight stay, Teal’c included. He and Carter had residual muscle fatigue from the paralysis gloop stuff and that was it. Daniel’s alarming breathing was indeed a result of too much activity too soon after a trauma and not something worse, and he had wheedled Doctor Fraiser into letting him stay in on base quarters for a couple of nights rather than in the infirmary. 

But not Jack. He had been stuck having to listen to all the lewd conscious at that point and had distinctly felt like he was in that nightmare he always had – the one where he came to work buck naked and everyone gaped at him but said nothing. His lone comfort at that memory was that Daniel had had even less covering. 

A fleeting smile crossed his lips. He definitely remembered the vision of Daniel Jackson pulling the jacket at his waist closed with one hand, covering his face with the other as the medics wheeled him down the suddenly bustling corridors to the infirmary. Perhaps it had been morphine stimulated, but Jack hadn’t been able to stop the chuckles at his modest friend’s discomfort. 

Daniel’s plaintive, weak wail of ‘Ja-ck!’ of course, had provoked him further until the sniggers suddenly got revenge on Daniel’s behalf, pinching his chest in waves of pain. That and a stern, commanding look from the doc had quelled his inappropriate humor. 

Now all Jack wanted was a shower. He’d convinced Teal’c that three weeks was plenty of time for him to have recovered and that sparring wouldn’t be a problem. After several rounds, though, Jack had been sweating and panting so harshly his Jaffa friend flat out refused to participate any longer. Surreptitiously massaging his right side, he had to agree he wasn’t quite up for full contact fighting. 

Stripping off his soaked T-shirt, Jack turned to his silent companion, "So, Teal’c. We never really talked about this. I didn’t really feel comfortable asking Carter or Daniel. Mind telling me what it was like when you were stuck in the infirmary and couldn’t move? And does the doc turn into the ogre I know she is when she thinks no one is looking?" 

Teal’c calmly turned to him, peeling off his socks with purpose. The Jaffa hadn’t even broken a sweat. Jack suspected his friend was only in the locker room to keep an eye on him and was touched by the gesture. Not that he’d ever admit that. Not even under a court of law. 

"Doctor Fraiser is not an ogre, O’Neill. She is a skilled practitioner, a fact for which you should be grateful," Teal’c said gravely. 

Jack stepped out of his boxers, grabbed his soap and a towel and sauntered to the shower. 

"Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit her act is good, but deep down she’s got something lurking. I can’t be the only one who’s noticed this." 

"I do not have anything to say to that, O’Neill," Teal’c successfully ended Jack’s line of conversation as he also made his way to the shower. 

"Okay, then, since you don’t want to talk about that. How about those Twins?" 

"I do not know a set of twins, O’Neill." 

"No, not that kind of twins. Sports. Baseball, Teal’c. Personally, I prefer the Sox, how about you?" Jack rambled, knowing his friend had no interest in baseball. He just needed to fill the air. 

"Socks are indeed beneficial. It would be quite uncomfortable to wear boots without them," Teal’c replied. 

Jack had to laugh at that. Shaking his head, he let a companionable silence fall. He scrubbed his hair with vigor, fighting down the urge to start singing. He’d accidentally done that once while on base and had been busted by Feretti. Never heard the end of that one. 

Turning off the water, Jack heard the klaxons sounding through the locker room door and General Hammond’s voice booming, "Colonel O’Neill to the ‘gateroom immediately!" 

"Oh, what now??" Jack groaned. 

Beside him, Teal’c shut off his shower and started moving to join him. Jack shook the excess water out of his hair and reached for his towel. His groping hand came up empty. Crap. 

"Teal’c did you take my towel?" 

"I did not. Mine also appears to be missing." 

"Shit. You’d think the cleaning people would have enough common sense not to take a towel when there are people in the shower!" he cursed. Only when the general called would this happen. "And aren’t they supposed to come on Tuesdays? Today’s Wednesday." 

"Indeed," Teal’c agreed, sounding vaguely miffed. 

They exited the shower stalls and headed for the lockers, knowing there should be ample towels out in the common area. To Jack’s consternation, the cleaners had also removed all of the extras. 

"Shit again. Guess we’ll be less than presentable for General Hammond," Jack sighed, not looking forward to putting on clothes while he was still drenched. There was almost nothing worse than trying to tug up rough pants over wet skin. 

"Indeed, O’Neill. It appears our clothing has also been taken," Teal’c informed him. 

Seconds later, a second page called out, "Colonel O’Neill to the ‘gateroom * _immediately*_!" 

Jack whipped his head up. Oh. My. God. Not a good time for this, not good at all. Cursing when he confirmed Teal’c’s statement, Jack ran a hand through wet hair. 

"Okay, well I can squeeze into something of Daniel’s, but I’m not sure what you’re going to do Teal’c," Jack muttered and stalked to Daniel’s clothing cubicle to find it empty. 

"I know what he can do," a voice singsonged from the locker room door. 

"He can say cheese!" a second, higher voice pitched in with a giggle. 

Spinning around, Jack gaped at the sight of Daniel and Carter, both sporting huge grins of delight. Before he had the chance to cover himself, a bright flash filled the room not once, but twice. Next to him, Teal’c growled his displeasure. 

"Hey, Sam saw me naked. We figured she should get to know the rest of the team as intimately," Daniel chortled. 

"And this time I actually get a memento!" Carter gloated, waving an already developing Polaroid picture in the air. 

"Daniel! Carter!" Jack sputtered as the duo doubled over in hysterics. A draft from the open door lit upon his exposed skin, and he moved both hands to cover himself. Too little, much too late. 

"This is not amusing, Daniel Jackson," Teal’c intoned. "I insist you destroy those photographs." 

"Oh, not a chance, Teal’c," Carter fairly squealed and backed away quickly. 

"Said I’d get you back, Jack!" Daniel called, letting go of the door and following Carter’s retreat. "And you have Doctor Fraiser to thank! It was her idea." 

Jack stared at the closing door in shock. Unbelievable. * _Unbelievable*_! Outwitted by a couple of scientists! And Doctor Fraiser would absolutely pay for her hand in it. He vacillated between extreme anger and genuine awe. Daniel and Carter * _had*_ seemed a bit too buddy-buddy since their return from P7J 952, but he’d chalked it up to the harrowing experience. Here they’d completely pulled the rug from under his feet. 

Still, in the face of his own gigantic embarrassment, he was happy to see the pair laughing. Jack didn’t think he’d ever seen Carter laugh before Daniel’s tumble in the mud, though she smiled often. And Daniel? Never a real laugh out of the guy. Perhaps a little humiliation wasn’t such a bad thing if the pay off was so good. 

"O’Neill," Teal’c interrupted his thoughts. 

"Yeah?" Jack looked at the Jaffa. Teal’c was glaring at him, an eyebrow cocked particularly high. 

"I do not understand the reason for your good mood. We are naked and have no means by which to acquire clothing, aside from leaving the locker room in our undressed state," Teal’c growled, clearly displeased. 

"Carter! Daniel! You are * **so** *dead!!" Jack roared as his emotional gauge swung to the extreme anger setting and stuck there. "Watch your backs, kids. You too, Fraiser. I know you’re out there!" 

His threat simply garnered another round of giggling, and Jack couldn’t help but smile. 

**The End**

  


* * *

  


>   
>  Author’s notes and thanks: This story was originally published  
>  in Gateways 5. My thanks go out to Joyce and her mighty red editing pen. Note  
>  that this was written eons ago, and it probably shows. ;)  
> 

* * *

>   
>  © September, 2003 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
>  The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
>  who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,  
>  titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.  
> 

* * *

  



End file.
